


Rhapsody

by FlareWarrior



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Bones is So Done, Books, Christmas, Dancing, Exile, Idiots in Love, Implied Past Mind Rape, Kid Fic, M/M, Pining, Vulcan soul-mitosis voodoo, but not really, people avoiding their problems, sort of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-13 01:44:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7133498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlareWarrior/pseuds/FlareWarrior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years ago Jim Kirk fell in love with a masterpiece.<br/>Ten years ago Spock stepped from his pedestal and missed the ground.<br/>Now everything's gone to hell, and that hell has put them back in each other's orbits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For those (like me) who don't like incomplete fics, good news! This is already completed. Because I am terrible, I'll be updating every 9 days while editing. Math tells me that will give me an update roughly the day Beyond is released.

Jim felt like a tiger prowling the perimeter of his cage. The village at the base of the crag and tail that held his residence out of the purview of the public eye was quaint and dingy with age. Stalls lined the thin streets, tucked up against old houses and older stone walls. Beyond the village lay a larger city, peaceful and bustling, the weather always just right from the environmental controls. Objectively, it was nice. Except for the barrier surrounding it all that Jim was not allowed to cross. It had been two months of awaiting trial, exiled to wait in one of the federation's properties, and already Jim knew nearly every inch of the town. He ached for movement, even if that movement put him in a correctional facility or hell, even a Klingon work camp. He wasn't built for stasis.

Which was why he was in a foul mood when he caught sight of a ferengi trader with a tiny girl chained at the ankle to his stall.

Jim stopped in his agitated stalk through the street, frowning. Her hair was the kind of mess that implied someone had been rough with it, cropped to her chin, feathery-light and the color of wheat. Her face was tucked into her knees, a thin grey dress hanging loose on her frail, bony form. Jim bristled at the sight.

The ferengi caught him looking and jumped a bit in excitement.

"Admiral!" he greeted, rubbing his hands together as he emerged from behind his pile of other wares "I see you have fine taste-"

"Are you in the business of selling human children?" Jim growled, acid in his tone.

The ferengi backpedaled, flailing at the girl "S-s-she's not a human! If you look closer, Admiral, you can see that she's a quarter Vulcan! Just look at her ears! No human children here. On your feet, girl!"

Slowly the girl obeyed, keeping her head down as she did so. The chain at her ankle jingled with the movement.

Jim glared. "You expect me to believe that someone went through the trouble of breeding a hybrid only to sell the product at a price _you_ could afford?

"Actually, that's quite a story-"

Jim crossed his arms expectantly.

"-which I can condense to an anecdote. See, her former master had a terrible accident and will be in hospice care for the rest of his life and his assets are being liquidated to pay for it. It's all very civilized and, if I may say, very profitable."

The ferengi winked.

Jim sighed in frustration before turning his attention to the girl. He crouched in front of her, and from that close he could see that this very practice was how her hair had become so disheveled. He wasn't the first to question the ferengi and be pointed to her ears, but it looked like she had roughly tugged her short locks back over them every time as though she wanted to hide her heritage. He reached out and she flinched away slightly. Jim caught a flash of brown eyes that resonated with memory.

"Now see here you brat-" the ferengi started. Jim shot him a look that had him shutting his mouth with a click.

It was only for a split second that he'd seen them, but Jim had already lost the rhythm of his breathing. He reached out again and tilted her head up so he could see.

Deep, abiding brown stared back at him, fathomless and familiar. He'd only seen eyes quite like that one other time.

"Little girl-" he tried, but his voice came out tight and he had to clear his throat to continue "where did you get such lovely eyes?"

Confusion flashed in them for a brief second before she smoothed her features flat.

"I have been told they resemble my carrier-father's a great deal." she said quietly.

"Your carrier-father." Jim echoed "What's his name?"

Jim felt in that he was standing in a field the instant before a lightning strike. All the hair on his body stood up with energy just waiting for discharge. The girl tensed, but after flicking her gaze to the ferengi, she replied:

"S'chn T'gai Spock."

Jim barely remained upright. He exhaled sharply; and slowly, absently, he raised a hand to his mouth to rub at his lips, trying to regain composure. It almost worked a little, too.

"How much," he found himself saying without thinking, and had the presence of mind to be glad for his trustworthy instincts.

The ferengi jumped. Jim wasn't sure what he looked like, but he doubted it was pretty, and the ferengi had reason to fear him besides.

"W-well! I knew you had good taste!" the ferengi started nervously. Jim stood up and the salesman squeaked "For you, esteemed Admiral, let's say -- five bars of latinum?"

Jim had no idea how much that was, but he also didn't care. As he was advancing on the ferengi and reaching for his credit chip, the ferengi ducked backwards and rambled

"Three! Three, sir, o-or, because you've so generously refrained from reporting me, how about just one?"

Jim blinked, scowled, and shoved his chip at the wincing figure "Fine." he said "Here. You take it in credits."

The ferengi opened his eyes, looked mildly surprised to be alive, and turned all smiles "Of course! That's no trouble at all, Admiral, there's a small conversion fee but nothing to break the bank-" Jim all but sneered at the delay and the ferengi stopped rambling to tap three buttons with a perfectly straight face.

"Five-thousand credits transferred, and thank you for your business."

Jim took the chip back and walked to the little girl again. He unlocked the chain on her ankle by way of owner identification, then hoisted her up into his arms. She clung to his shoulders with bony fingers but didn't comment, eyes on the ground like she wasn't sure she'd be going back.

"Do you know where your father is?" Jim asked, trying not to shake. Her shaggy hair had shifted off her ears, revealing short, sharp points at the tips and familiar, sweeping cheekbones besides. He realized, with a pounding heart, that the slope of her nose was familiar from the mirror. But that was the hysteria talking, wasn't it?

She stole a shy glance at his face.

"He came to this market with me."

Jim had shifted her in his arms and his communicator flipped open in half a second flat.

"Janice-"

"Yeoman Rand."

"Tell Bones I need a favor.  Have him bring Christine and meet me in the village, now."

 

Spock stood for the second time in his life on a gilded stage. The trends, it seemed, had changed since the first, as he was lead to settle theatrically inside an open, grand bird cage at the center. Apparently, the rich now leaned even further towards eccentricity.

"Here we have a rare bird indeed. Half vulcan, half human, this gorgeous pet was trained in the royal mastery." there was a murmur from the crowd which the speaker allowed to simmer down before continuing "he was purchased nine years ago by a wealthy Admiral who kept this precious gem in good health and luxury until the day of his death. Spock comes to us the bearer of one healthy child through yielding."

Spock refrained from showing any opinion on the matter; though he knew whoever purchased him would be sorely disappointed.

"We will start the bidding at five hundred thousand credits."

Spock could not see the crowd through the bright stage lights, but he did not care to. With a singular focus, he did not imagine Jane on such a stage. There were rules protecting younger slaves from the harsher sides of the life, but, like many human laws, they rarely extended past the threshold of a master's home. He fought the guilt that washed over him once more as small green lights lit up in the audience, signaling bids. He did not know what he could have done differently, but he should have found something. Jane could not be expected to fend for herself.

Now their only option was escape.

The bidding wound down, and eventually only one light was lit. Finally, he was led off the stage and into darkness.

 

"From what I can tell here, he seems alright. Doctor McCoy will be able to give you a better report when we return to the citadel."

Spock looked up almost involuntarily at the imposing castle nestled on the top cliff edge above the village, its walls still reflecting the orange light of the setting sun.  
The woman ('Christine Chapel, nice to meet you') who had collected him was evidently not the same person who had purchased him. She was dressed in fine clothing that seemed tailored, however, so he gathered that her employer valued her. Her employer, who resided in the sprawling building on the most naturally fortified land in the area. A quick revision had to be made to his plan: he would need to escape within the next ten minutes if he wanted to have any chance at success.

For the moment, Christine Chapel was taking measured, steady steps in the exact direction he wanted to go. His telepathy was rough about the edges, but the parental bond was strong enough at least to work within the town. They were fast approaching Jane.

The sun had set behind the hills surrounding the village but had yet to pass into obscurity for higher points, leaving them in the soft grey lighting of a shady twilight. Spock scanned the market ahead of them, searching for any sign of Jane, but found none. They had not taken her from him until they arrived, and he doubted she would have sold so quickly. Humans would be reluctant to buy one of their own in broad daylight - or so he had thought. They were beginning to exit the market district and he had yet to spot her. It was with rising concern that he twisted the gold-plated chains linking his wrists to a state of creaking stress.

"Are you sure you don't want Janice to take care of it?"

A pause.

"Alright, sir. We'll get them settled in."

She hung up and sighed lightly.

"You'll have to forgive him. The Admiral's a bit manic about all this."

Ignoring the coil of irony he felt at her words, Spock twisted his hands inconspicuously, felt the metal start to give. An Admiral. How poetic that he trade one for another within days.

They rounded a corner and into sight of a large, ornately-carved carriage. With dismay, Spock realized he would barely be able to escape by himself, let alone conduct a search as he did so. It did not matter, he would succeed. Jane was within one-hundred meters of him, weather inside one of the houses or not he couldn't be sure. He gave a final twist to the chains-

"Father!"

"Jane?"

Spock snapped the restrains, starling a yelp from the woman guiding him.

He saw her now, jumping up from the steps of the carriage and launching herself in his direction. Spock took two quick strides forward before kneeling on the ground to catch her when they collided.

Premature relief washed over him at having her safely in his arms again. He would have scolded himself of he'd had the time - they were far from safe, their fates unknown as much as their masters.

"I thought I'd never see you again." Jane sniffed, clinging to him.

"Are you alright? Did anyone hurt you?" he asked, stroking her hair in an effort to soothe her (or perhaps himself.)

"She's fine."

A man appeared at their side, scowling as he dug into a satchel slung around his neck.

"Great craftsmanship on those manacles I can see. A real steal. You couldn't have waited ten goddamn seconds? Look what you did to your wrists."

The man speaking was not significantly imposing or commanding. His hair was neat but not in a way that signaled great care had been taken to make it so, his chin was shaded with stubble, and his clothing was not especially well-tailored. Yet he was extracting high-end dermal regenerator from his bag, and those did not, as a rule, come cheap. An eccentric, Spock decided, who had not taken advantage of his patron's obvious wealth. He reached for Spock's arm and Spock pulled back on instinct. The man raised both eyebrows in response.

"Wonderful, another one. I think I'm starting to see why he likes you."

Without ceremony he grabbed Spock's arm and set about unlocking the cuffs and closing the abrasions they'd left.

"Why is my daughter here?"

The man shrugged while Jane whispered too quietly for human ears "he's a doctor."

"You both got picked up by the same guy, that's why. Other hand."

In the interest of peace, Spock reluctantly held out his other wrist.

"I'm Leonard McCoy by the way, babysitter extraordinaire. Also MD, though no one ever seems to remember." The doctor drawled.

He finished patching up Spock's wrists and moved to stand.

Spock was faced with an unanticipated turn of events. He and Jane had been bought by the same man. There was no contingency in his carefully constructed escape plans for this. It certainly made escape easier if he was to run right that second, but it was hardly the most logical course of action anymore. The probability that they would be caught was inordinately high.

On the other hand, the imposing citadel loomed with an air of terrible ambivalence.

Slowly, Spock got to his feet after the doctor.

"Anything more will have to wait until we're in the infirmary. These people don’t like hovercars, and it's a long trek for a horse and buggy so get comfortable."

With equal parts resignation and unease, he led Jane to the carriage and climbed in. Doctor McCoy and Chapel took the front of the carriage, and only a few moments later they were under way.

"Daddy?" Jane asked softly "What's going to happen to us?"

Outside, he could hear the humans speaking in low tones.

"They look okay, for what it's worth." Chapel murmured.

"They're run down and scared out of their minds." The Doctor replied.

"Do you think she's-"

"Yes."

"I'll run a test, then."

Spock tightened his arm around her shoulder.

"I do not know."

He hoped dearly that he had not made the wrong decision.

 

Spock frowned at the doctor to the beat of the underwater pinging of bio-monitoring equipment. It was both grating and soothing, somehow, in its monotony.

Jane was in the next room, close enough that he could hear her voice if he listened but out of her own hearing range. Like the monitoring equipment, it both soothed him and put him on edge. What did these people want with his child?

They had indeed traveled for quite some time to reach the top of the sheer mountain. The citadel itself was far more imposing up close than it had been from below, but aside from the shabby, unkempt edges, it was actually quite lovely. Roses mixed with ivy climbing along the stone walls, illuminated by warm off-yellow lights that lined the round front drive. The citadel was at the apex of the environmental control bubble for the area, and as such he could see the faint gridlines of the barrier streaking the night sky in the courtyard.

It was also less heavily guarded than expected. The natural placement of it still posed an issue, however, and logically it would be wisest to bide his time.

"You're pretty much in perfect health." the doctor drawled, then put down his scanner "Little bit of stress in your telepathic lobe, but there's not a whole lot I can do about that with what I have on hand. I don't know the first thing about your-" McCoy made a sweeping gesture with his hands "Vulcan soul-mitosis voodoo, so Doctor M'Benga will give you a once-over."

Another doctor who had been reading over McCoy's shoulder stepped forward.

Spock tensed "Unnecessary doctor, as he will no doubt tell you and the house master what all practitioners have any time I have been examined. I am entirely incapable of producing offspring via yielding, though perfectly healthy besides."

"Then what do you call that kid out there?" McCoy scoffed.

Spock raised one brow "Tahta'an T'Pel Jane."

"Are all vulcans this smart-assed or are you just especially charming?" the doctor muttered. Spock looked past him to M'Benga, who had made no move to examine him.

"If you're certain you're unharmed." the second doctor conceded "I would like to ask you - if you're sterile, how is it possible you have a daughter?"

Spock smoothed his features to blank and impassive. "Science has failed to explain it. She is an anomaly from my youth that has never been successfully duplicated."

The second doctor folded his arms "If you had to guess, what do you think?"

Spock narrowed his eyes. "Vulcans do not guess. If that is all, doctors, might see my daughter?"

McCoy caught a lilt of vulnerability in his voice that made him scowl. He swept an arm behind him to the other room in response and turned back to put his scanners in order.

A few seconds later out of the corner of his eye he saw a tiny form shoot away from Chapel and fling itself at Spock.

He turned his head to watch Spock lift the girl into his arms and saw Chapel looking about as taken as woman could get. His own old, crotchety heart broke a little bit at the sight.

"You've got full use of the house." Leonard called "The top floor of the north wing is off-limits for now, but other than that I've been authorized to tell you to go crazy. Kitchen's down the hall to your right, Janice will be around soon to give you a tour."

Spock regarded him for a moment, then nodded and disappeared out the door.

After a few seconds of careful silence, Bones said "I'll put a watch on them. I'm not sure how much they were allowed around each other before, and I don't have to tell you about the ugly side of this Katra-breeding business."

"Oh, there'll be no need for that." Dr. M'Benga said absently, still looking after them.

McCoy stopped and gave him a look. M'Benga finally turned from the door and started re-organizing his own tools.

"Her first name, Tahta'an," M'Benga's recreation of the name sounded too smooth and not quite right "it's an archaic word.  Humans are not able to pronounce it. He must have given it to her, and no vulcan would name their child that by accident." he settled his scanner beside the incense Leonard had always regarded dubiously. Bones waited him out, and a few moments later M’Benga looked up.

"It means miracle." he shrugged "A bit emotional for his kind, wouldn't you say?"

Chapel handed him a PADD silently and he gripped it so hard his fingers turned white.

"Yeah, I guess it is."

 

Jim stood stiffly by his desk listening to Leonard's run-down of Spock's check-up. The morning light cast everything a little brighter than he felt it should be, given his mood, and lit the dark-stained wood of the bookcases and fraying edges of the rug with white-gold halos.

"He's fine from what I can tell. Nothing broken or even bruised. They took care of him at the auction house, if not before. There's scarring on part of his brain but before you even ask I already ordered the supplies to fix it."

Jim nodded tensely, watching the dust motes drift in the sunbeams.

"The girl's a little thin, but I think that's normal for her. It could be stress-related. I figure we'll wait them out and see."

Leonard crossed his arms, dropping from MD to friend with the motion.

"Bones." Jim murmured, more quietly than he'd intended, imploring.

Leonard's lips thinned.

"She's yours, Jim."

Jim blinked stars out of his vision and braced himself back against the desk to keep from falling down.

"He said he couldn't."

"And he still says that. He called her 'an anomaly' and wouldn't give an inch besides."

Jim somehow got around his desk and dropped into his chair. He sat there and breathed for a long while.

"I don't know what to do, Bones."

Jim heard the sound of cloth rustling as Leonard either sat or shrugged. He picked his head up, just realizing he'd hung it.

"You could, I don't know, just go talk to him."

"It's been so many years." Jim thumbed the corner of a stack of papers on his desk absently.

"This is the record of his yielding attempts."

"Well" Leonard's voice was gruff "at least they failed."

"That's just it, they didn't." he shoved the files away like it would force the past in the same direction with the motion "They tried so many times. It was awful for him - it took them _days_ to wear him down enough to try to yield, then months for him to recover. They weren't even sure if he _would_ recover completely after the last attempt. Every note in there says something to the effect of 'great stress on subject' which is a code they use in Starfleet for when a person is _tortured_." Jim sank further into the chair, energy sapped from him "And that's only part of what his life was like." he nudged a much larger manila folder on the desk in demonstration. "I didn't read the rest of his file. I was just trying to see if I needed to look for any more-"

He shoved his hands into his hair, hunching so Bones couldn't see his face.

"It's my fault. They only tried because of Jane. If I'd just been there-" Jim choked off, took a shaky breath, and continued on a different track "I can't face him, Bones."

Leonard let him sit for a few seconds more, then came around the desk and settled a hand on his shoulder.

"Take your time, Jim, but I think you might find that he'll want you to."


	2. Chapter 2

Leonard was not, as a habit, an avid watcher of people. Unfortunately, having tied himself to Jim as he had and with Jim in luxurious exile, he was left with little else to do. So he watched, and occasionally reported what he saw. It fed into Jim's abrupt introversion, which irked him, but he figured it couldn't last forever.

Jane settled in with the adaptability of a child, her curiosity and the conspicuous lack of authority winning out over her fear in a matter better measured in hours than days. She was like Jim in that regard, then.

Spock, on the other hand, usually looked like a disgruntled bear. This was one of the nicer analogies Leonard thought up with all the endless free time he had now to knock around the sprawling empty castle they were residing in.

Not that he could blame the guy - if it'd been him and Johanna, he'd have spent the better part of a week screaming bloody murder at anything that breathed or shined too bright. So really? Spock was taking it all pretty well.

And then Jim started doing things.

Oh, not himself - he avidly refused to leave the north wing like a witch had turned him into a hideous beast (one hadn't, McCoy had made sure to check after day five). No, Jim used his charm to get other people to do things.

First it was The Tea Incident. Spock had come down on day six, dressed to the nines in the clothes that came in on day five, sat down with Jane to his usual simple breakfast (and her usual exotic one) and took precisely one sip of the tea before bristling like an angry cat.

"This is vulcan tea." he accused the maid who'd brought it for him.

"Yes, sir." She confirmed. Jim liked his staff to have backbones. Only way they could tolerate him.

"Humans rarely appreciate Vulcan tea."

"Yes, sir."

“Are there any other vulcans in the household?”

“No, sir.”

Spock looked at the maid. The maid looked at Spock. Leonard had to refrain from playing anything dramatic on his PADD.

Spock went back to his tea, and the maid went back to her work.

This was all very amusing (hey, he took what he could get) until the garden incident. On day eight, when Jane had started to stray and Spock had started to let her, Leonard was ambushed by a dozen andorians with pitchforks who demanded he "show them to the gardens."

Leonard was not aware they had gardens and wondered briefly if it was a creative alien threat, but he doubted anyone would send such conspicuous assassins.

He was proven wrong (about the gardens, thankfully). The gardens - sad, overrun things - were transformed over the course of two days into some of the nicest walking paths Leonard had had the pleasure of, well, walking. Of course, they weren't _for_  him.

Spock was lured like a bee to honey. Jim had the place bursting at the seams with questionable plant life, which turned out to be of great interest to his vulcan...something. Terrorist, Leonard thought dryly, on day thirteen when Jim came crying to him about his back because he'd been sleeping on his office couch. Jim's terribly frightening Vulcan. 

As effective as these things seemed to be at loosening Spock up to his new living arrangements, nothing worked as fast as the shower of gifts he sent Jane's way. Leonard reported that she liked trying new food? Suddenly the kitchen was stocked with the ingredients for the best dishes from all one-hundred and nineteen federation planets (plus a few others). Leonard reported she liked to look at the stars? They got an observatory. She liked paper books? Open season on the previously off-limits paper library Jim had hoarded. Leonard reported he should just go ask her himself? Leonard got puppy eyes for an hour until he gave something of use.

This was all well and good, mostly because he knew something had to give. And Jane was Jim's daughter, so boy did it ever.

 

"Doctor McCoy."

Spock greeted, feeling the prickle of the doctor's mind approaching long before he saw him. Everything had been brighter since the doctor's treatments took effect, sharper than it had been since he first sold. He’d had difficulty blocking everything out, and at times it felt like looking at the sun after a period too long in darkness. He relished every stinging moment.

Leonard was often a study in contradiction. He seemed angry for the majority of the time they spoke, but was in fact somewhat thrilled.

Spock suspected he was usually quite bored.

Predictably, Leonard's expression pinched into a put-upon scowl at the sight of him.

It was day twenty, and Spock was heading to the garden with one of the Admiral's exceedingly rare and fragile books (which, apparently, Spock liked too). Leonard was on his way back from treating the broken ankle of one of the workman trying to set glass in the new arboretum (because the gardens weren't enough for the overachieving phantom of the north wing). The sweet smell of the alien flowers filled the warm air, which Leonard found bizarre since it was late October back on Earth.

"Spock." he replied "Where's your shadow gotten off to today?"

One of Spock's slanted eyebrows lifted.

"Jane."

"Ah. She located a set of stairs behind a bookcase in the library and decided to investigate." he glanced at the med kit in Leonard's hands.

"I am forced to question the experience level of the construction team."

"It's not their fault the Admiral decided he wanted a five story room of glass." Leonard said, rather than 'you and me both.'

Spock looked like he wanted to agree, but refrained.

Bones never got to meet him last time around, too busy in required seminars before his next mission, so getting to know him had been a strange mixture of seeing into Jim's bizarre preferences and meeting a local celebrity. Which was to say, nothing like expected. It mystified him how the two of them ever worked together and yet at the same time, it made a strange sort of sense. Every now and again Spock would display a penchant for the same absurdity Jim was so fond of committing. It seemed like just a little encouragement would have him tilting at windmills as bad as the Admiral and leave Leonard with all the more to patch up in the end.

Bad influence, thy name is Jim Kirk.

Spock had taken to staring up at the fourth floor in the silence as if, if he stared hard enough, he would be able to see through the walls to the face of his mysterious benefactor. Then, with the kind of blankness that came before moments of great peril, he said "Jane is on the roof."

The discovery was just in time for both of them to see one of the loose shingles lose its fight with gravity. Specifically, the shingle under Jane's right foot.

With a cry that turned Bones' blood to ice, Jane lost her footing and tumbled down the steep incline of the old roof towards the quickly-approaching edge. Spock broke into a run in the same moment Leonard did, seconds before she would to lose contact with the building entirely. She reached the edge before either was close enough to have a chance at catching her - and wrapped one tiny fist around the rain gutter as she passed it. It groaned under her weight and for another heart-stopping second she fell as the first two supports gave out. Then she hung, suspended forty feet in the air by nothing but an ancient gutter and her hopefully vulcan-inherited grip.

"Jane!" Spock called when they came to a stop just beneath her. Leonard had to shield his eyes from the sun to make her out.

"Daddy!" She called back weakly.

"Jane, you must remain calm. Hold on as tight as you can until I tell you otherwise."

One of the maids came out and Bones barked for her to get at least four people and a thick sheet. Spock sounded calm, but Leonard had never seen him so pale or tense in their acquaintance. Not that he could blame him, seeing as he was about to have a heart attack himself.

The gutter let out an ominous creak. Another support snapped and Jane shrieked as she dropped again, leaving just one support anchoring the gutter to the eves before the end of the segment.

"Doctor." Spock said, very, very quietly "Ready your surgery."

Leonard felt sick. Just then, the window on the fourth floor nearest Jane slammed open.

Jane had inconveniently fallen at the inside corner of one of the wings, leaving her out of reach when Jim swung himself out to try and get to her.  
Leonard heard his lips treacherously form the words “Oh thank god.” at the sight of him.

Leonard only knew it was Jim because he was the only one in the house crazy enough to hang out a fourth-floor window supported by nothing but his own hand on the top of the frame - the sun hung just right behind him so Leonard couldn’t so much as see his hair color.

"Jane!" Jim's voice rang out clear as a bell "Reach for my hand!"

Jane, who had been steadfastly clinging to the gutter, hesitated.

Leonard thought he heard Jim say "It'll be alright, trust me."

Reluctantly, Jane reached. She wasn’t quite big enough to bridge the gap. Jim leaned even further out; his feet dangerously close to the edge of the sill, his left hand grasping the frame by his fingertips. A familiar crack split the air just as the maids ran out with the sheet.

Spock darted forward and Leonard shouted wordlessly, but a second later they both stopped. In the instant the gutter support failed, Jim caught Jane's hand in his and swung her into his arms. They both tumbled back inside, leaving the party below soaking in adrenaline and relief.

 

Jim clung as tightly to Jane as he dared for a moment after they were both safely inside, and she didn't seem inclined to unlatch her fingers from his shirt any time that century. Then he pushed her back with wild panic still clawing at his heart.

"What were you doing up there? You could have died!" he barked, too much Captain in his voice, but he didn't have the presence of mind to censor it.

To her credit Jane didn't seem overly frightened by this. She flinched and tucked her chin against her chest at the accusation, though, trembling from head to toe as she had been since he got ahold of her.

"I didn't mean to fall. I just wanted to see the starships." she mumbled. And sniffed.

Jim deflated with comical speed.

"The starships." he repeated, trying to maintain some of his tough tone. He suspected he failed. Jim let out all the breath he'd been holding since he heard her tumbling off the roof and sat from his crouch.

"I think I remember doing something like that when I was a boy." he muttered.

Jane peaked up at him.

"You do?"

"Yes. My father used to come here for political events, and I'd climb to the roof to watch the starships take off from the base."

"You didn't fall." Jane seemed more ashamed by the contrast than the fact that she had almost died a few minutes earlier.

"The house was in much better shape at the time," Jim said with a shrug. "You...like starships?"

She nodded, but didn't explain further. Jim could feel his heart rate steadying out, finally.

"Any in particular or just all starships?"

Jane propped her head up on her knees and looked at him, considering. He had the feeling he was being tested.

"Constitution-class."

 _My god_ , Jim thought, warming with affection, _I wouldn't have needed the DNA proof_.

"But the constellation-class is supposed to be much more powerful." he said, smiling when she made a face.

"The constellations have too much extra equipment. Constitution class was built just to explore. They're better."

Jim's smile turned into a grin "That they are." he said, wondering where the Enterprise was right then, but worried he knew. "I had one, once."

Suddenly all trace of nerves dropped away from Jane's demeanor. Her eyes went wide as saucers, sparking with excitement.

"You did?"

"Oh, yes. For almost ten years, in fact. You're right, much better suited for deep space exploration. The constellations are bound to be sent on milk runs more often."

"Did you find anything new?"

Jim laughed a bit "I think a better question would be 'did we find anything familiar,' though when you're out there, you start to see similarities in almost everything."

Pounding footsteps echoed from down the corridor and Jim hopped to his feet "That's my que to go. Try watching the ships from the third floor balcony in the east wing - at least until I get something done about that roof."

 

Leonard dropped beside Jane, juggling his tricorder and med kit with hands steady only through extensive training. Spock was already there, gripping her shoulders with eyes just a tad too wide and saying something about being more careful and, hopefully, not doing damn fool things like climbing onto the roof unsupervised.

"I'm sorry father." Jane said, but Leonard had been a father himself long enough to recognize an insincere apology when he heard one.

" _Jane_." Spock stressed, trying to drag her attention away from whatever had captured it so completely down the hall.

She finally looked at him, and, horror of horrors, one of Jim's trademark grins flickered over her lips.

"I'm fine, father. The Admiral caught me - did you know he used to be Captain of a starship!?"

Leonard snapped his tricorder shut while Spock blinked several times in quick succession, probably at the dysphoric picture she made.

"Well, she's right that she's physically fine. Unfortunately, I've seen this particular kind of insanity before, and I'm afraid it's chronic."

 

There were workmen on the roof. Spock had abandoned his reading to frown at them in confusion several times over the course of the afternoon. Now that their project was beginning to take shape, his confusion had taken a different form. At first he had assumed they were fixing the decaying shingles - which they were, to some extent. Primarily, though, they seemed to be building an observation deck. On the apex of the roof.

It was a remarkable feat of engineering, if absolutely ridiculous.

"Apparently it's-" Doctor McCoy had held both of his hands up, index and middle fingers extended, and bent them to his words " _'The best spot to observe from.'"_

Since everyone in the house either seemed exasperated or strangely touched, Spock assumed that one, he was not the only one to find the addition to the mansion absurd and two, the Admiral behaved this way regularly enough that no one in his service thought it concerning.

He was still considering what that might mean when Jane wandered into the garden.

"Father." she greeted, carrying a paperback copy of Peter Pan. She sat on the bench beside him, following his gaze to the roof before trying to hide her smile behind the covers of her novel.

"He is a strange man." Spock muttered, lifting his own book back to his eyes. He was distracted, and it slowed his progress through War and Peace considerably.

After a silence, Jane giggled. Spock glanced over to see a winged creature of unknown origins resting on the binding of her book. He was certain it, like the rest of the garden, wasn't poisonous, and returned to his own novel. After another peaceful stretch of time, Jane spoke up.

"Father." Jane had stopped smiling, her eyebrows drawn together in thought. The moth-like creature had settled in to stay, but she seemed unconcerned about it now.

"Yes?"

"Are you happy here?"

"As I follow the teachings of Surak, I would not call it happiness. I am reasonably at peace," where the Admiral is not concerned, he didn't add.

Jane considered this.

"Is that why you don't smile?"

Ah. Somehow, he realized, he should have expected this much sooner. He set his book down on his lap.

"Indeed it is."

Jane looked to the roof, watching the contractors work.

"Should I not smile?"

Spock turned to watch them as well, finding it almost meditative to do so.

"Someone once asked me why I would try to fit into just one world when I could be the best of both." He began. He imagined Jim, smiling the way he did when he was too perceptive for his own good, and let it embolden him just a bit.

"I was directed to choose between the ways of the humans and the ways of the vulcans when I was about your age. Many believed they were incompatible. You could not have one and the other."

He looked back to Jane, who was watching him now from behind the green edge of her novel.

"And yet we exist, some undeniable combination of the two. Children of both worlds, with the flaws and benefits of each. We must decide for ourselves where in between we fall and what of our heritage we follow."

Carefully, he pushed her lengthening hair back over one of her ears. He had taught her to hide them, to appear as human as possible for her own protection. Now, sitting unharassed in a lovely garden which the staff seemed to think was just for them, it seemed cruel to have done so.

Spock allowed the faintest of smiles to show on his face and Jane's eyes widened slightly.

"I do not want you to choose, Jane. It is my sincerest wish that you will, in fact, try to take the best of both worlds without shame."

He let the words hang in the air and, when Jane seemed lost in thought, returned to reading.

Eventually she broke the silence.

"I'm happy here."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this is the weakest chapter, but it has its redeeming qualities. All this is a build-up to the next (much longer) installment.

Jim meandered down to the library, enjoying stretching his legs after so long cooped up in his rooms. It was just past two in the morning and he had no fears about running into Spock now; even though he probably wasn't sleeping, he tended to respect the need of the lesser creatures about him for rest and remained in his own rooms.

Stifling a yawn, he pushed open one of the two carved-wood doors to the library. It was quite nice; it had an open second floor ringed by a walkway that allowed for more bookshelves and was a bit longer than most of the rooms, with windows along one wall between each bookcase and a sitting area before a fireplace at one end. It was one of his favorites in the citadel.

The lights, fire-colored wall scones, were on. Jim blinked himself out of his late-night trance and swept his gaze over the room again.

And locked eyes with his daughter.

"Jane." he said, in some poor combination of greeting, question, and consternation.

She looked at him shyly from where she was, reaching for a book on a shelf just out of her reach.

"Admiral."

Jim stood in silent awkwardness for about a minute.

"What-" he cleared his throat, shaking off his unease. He was charming, goddamnit. He could talk to his own daughter. "What are you doing up so late?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"I see. So you decided to visit the library, naturally."

"Indeed."

Jim had to bite the inside corner of his lip to keep from smiling at the reply.

"I'm sure someone could fix you up a glass of warm milk."

She made a face and didn't comment.

"Ah." Jim held up a hand in a sort of 'got you' motion "Vegetarian."

Jim walked over and plucked the book she'd been reaching for from the shelf. With some surprise, he found it was the one he'd come to retrieve.

"This is a bit advanced for someone your age, isn't it?"

Jane puffed up with a familiar haughty air that had Jim smiling in spite of himself. "I am one-quarter vulcan."

"Of course." he said, still not handing her the book "I have no doubt you could read it. I meant that it's...mature, I suppose. Not the kind of thing someone with a full life ahead of them would appreciate."

"Why not?" she asked, leaning up to read the cover "What's it about?"

Jim turned the cover over to see the stone-caved face of a man beneath bold, rough-edged font naming the novel _The Emperor's Last Island_.

"It's a story about Napoleon Bonaparte, a famous ruler on Earth. At the end of his life he was exiled to an island called Saint Helena."

"Do you like it?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Oh, boring reasons. I identify with Napoleon, I suppose."

Jane's face scrunched up in confusion at this and Jim took pity on her. He tucked the book under his arm and gestured to the rest of the bookcases.

"But enough about that. Let me see if I can find you something you'll like better."

She trailed after him as he moved back through the shelves, considering.

"I still want to read that book."

"Maybe later. Aha, how about _Have Spacesuit, Will Travel_?'"

"I read that one already."

"Good tastes, then. _The Hobbit_?"

"That one too."

" _Peter Pan_?" she nodded " _Treasure Island_?"

Jim stopped looking at the shelves to look at her.

"Well, you're quite well read. If this keeps up I might have to move on to Shakespeare’s book of sonnets."

"I read it."

Jim paused.

"Is that so. _The Martian_?"

Again, she nodded. Jim thought back on the book and sent a silent apology Spock's way.

" _Sherlock Holmes_ and _The Great Gatsby_ as well, I should think."

She seemed to have figured out he'd cottoned on and took great interest in the row of books beside her.

"How about," he asked _"A Tale of Two Cites_."

She looked up and shook her head as he'd known she would. That book wasn't left in the library.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you read whichever books didn't have any dust on them."

Jane didn't confirm or deny this. Jim knew enough about her father to know what that meant. Armed with new knowledge, he turned to another shelf and ran his fingers over the spines until he found what he was looking for.

"Here we are;  _Dealing with Dragons_. It's about a spirited girl who runs away to live with a fearsome dragon."

She took the book skeptically.

"That sounds illogical."

Jim walked back to the couch and sat down, talking as he went, confident that she would follow if she wanted.

“She doesn’t think so.”

Jane did follow, and sat tentatively on the other end of the couch. 

“But dragons aren’t real.”

"Oh on the contrary. I met a group of dragons on Berengaria Seven once. Charming creatures. They made the warmest sweaters."

The book was at once clutched to her chest and forgotten entirely.

"Did they knit?"

"Sort of. It was an art I've never seen duplicated. See, there were these bushes there that grew everywhere, and they were covered in a sort of cotton substance..."

Somehow, neither book was read over the next few hours. Jim would finish regaling her with one story only to accidentally mention another, and then he'd be off again, barely able to keep up with her questions. He talked about the dragons and the beings so advanced they may as well have been gods, the ones who taught him things and the ones he managed to help, travelling to the past, travelling to the future, traveling to places farther and stranger than either.

Only when the sun was beginning to peak up over the edge of the planet did either of them slow down.  By that time Jim had just related as much as he knew (and possibly more besides) about tribbles, and Jane had slid down against the backrest with drooping eyes.

"Could I be a Captain one day?" Jane asked sleepily.

Jim stroked her hair and her eyes closed.

"You could. You can be anything you want."

"Really?"

"Yes."

 

Spock nudged open the door to Jane's room, surprised to find her sleeping. Normally she would be up with the dawn, her youth and heritage granting her a shorter sleep schedule, but now she lay curled under the blankets, her hair disheveled and expression slack despite the sunlight streaming in through the windows. Spock walked to her and sat on the bed to rouse her.

"Jane."

Jane stirred when he touched her shoulder, reluctant to wake. Eventually her eyes drifted open. She blinked, then looked at him.

"What-" she yawned "where did the Admiral go?"

Spock's blood turned to ice in his veins.

"The Admiral was here?"

"Mmm-hmm." Jane sat up, rubbing her eyes. Then she glanced around and tilted her head slightly.

"Not here. The library."

She started rummaging around in the blankets with all the coordination of the recently awakened. Spock was about to reach out and catch her attention when she spotted what she was looking for on the windowsill.

"My book." She picked it up with a light smile and finally looked at Spock.

Spock did set his hands on her shoulders now, his chest tight.

"Jane, did the Admiral hurt you?"

Jane was, by necessity, wise beyond her years. From the way her smile fell away, he knew the meaning of his words was not lost on her.

"No." she muttered, holding the book up as though it were a shield. "He just told me about the stars. He wouldn't do anything bad."

"Jane, you don't know that."

"Yes I do. I'm not like you but I still know things."

She was fidgeting with the corner of the old book in her hands, tiny papery bits coming off as dust as she did so. Wincing for it, Spock set one hand over hers and willed himself to be calm. Jane was unharmed. 

"You must be more careful, Jane. You remember how to call for me if anything ever happens."

Pouting very slightly, Jane nodded and tugged on the parental bond just to prove she could.

"Good." he glanced at her book, looking to distract himself. "What have you found?"

"It's a book about dragons." Jane said, just the slightest bit sulky.

Spock extracted it from her hands and turned it over, looking at the cartoonish cover that had been painstakingly restored at some point. He shifted so that he was beside Jane on the bed, leaning back against the wall, and raised his eyebrows at her. She raised hers back.

A moment later she settled in next to him as he flipped open to the first page.

"Linderwall was a large kingdom, just east of the Mountains of Morning, where philosophers were highly respected and the number five was fashionable." he began.

 

Jim had had two glorious years cold-free before his body cottoned on to the fact that he was fooling it with space, and then he'd gone right back to catching a bug in Earth's November no matter where in the universe he was or what the weather might be like there. Usually, it was annoying. Tonight it would be a godsend.

It was one of those rare storms where the rain clouds failed to cover the moon, so the drops shimmered with white light as they fell and shattered against the earth. It was such an enchanting sight that Jim didn’t notice Spock until he was well within view on the garden path.

Spock had no umbrella. He stood in the garden barefoot and shirtless, his face and hands upturned to the rain and his eyes, thankfully, closed. The moonlight shone over his wet skin, casting him an in an alabaster glow. Jim’s breath stuttered in his lungs. He hadn't been so close since the auction, and he looked so very beautiful, so ethereal and otherly. Jim was at once aware that they were not the same and glad for it.

Then Spock opened his eyes just slightly, and Jim snapped to reality just in time to drop his umbrella enough to cover his face.

There was a beat where the only sound in the garden was the patter of rain on cobblestones and the canvas of Jim's umbrella. Then:

"Admiral.”

Spock's voice was even and blank. Jim knew the tone was hiding more, but, he noted with sadness, it had been too long for him to identify what that might be.

"Not the best of weather for tanning." Jim tried for light. His voice was rough and strange with the vestiges of his cold, the only reason he dared to speak.

He wished he could look again, drink in the way Spock's hair abandoned formation with the weight of the water it held, see his deep brown eyes reflecting the moon's pale shine.

"Nor the most common time for a stroll."

His voice was suspicious and intoxicating. Guilt and longing welled up in Jim's chest alongside shame. He was a coward, he realized, but couldn’t bring himself to lift the umbrella. There were no scars on Spock's body, but there were more lines on his face than there should have been for a vulcan of his age. Jim warred with himself in the drifting silence. He couldn’t face Spock now, unstable and hesitating. Not yet.

The rain pattered about them, soft and soothing.

"It is an old vulcan form of mediation. The planet had little rain, but what did fall was thoroughly appreciated." Spock offered.

Jim smiled a bit.

"I've always liked this kind of storm."

Spock's hands fell to his sides and into Jim's mostly obscured line of sight as he turned to face him.

"If I may ask." Spock began, his voice low but startling nonetheless "Why did you purchase us?"

Jim rolled his shoulders. "The mansion seemed a bit lifeless, before."

There was another silence, this one measured and tense. Spock wasn't having that, then. His fists stayed open at his sides only through practiced control, Jim suspected.

"Do you have any children, Admiral?"

"I do." The words were strange on his lips. _I do, except_ , he thought.

"Imagine," Spock said, slow and careful "you had to weigh the virtues of letting a man your child admires groom her for an unknown fate, or of saving her that for the inevitability that one day, further off, someone much less desirable will do the job."

Jim's heartbeat stuttered at the words. With rising horror, he thought back on the past few weeks from Spock's perspective.

"Admiral, I beg you, call upon me instead."

"No." Jim said too quickly, gripping the handle of his umbrella so tight it creaked. A second later, when Spock's fingers twitched, he realized his mistake. "I mean." he rubbed a hand over his eyes "I've been a fool yet again."

"Admiral?"

Jim pulled himself up, drew on the Captain to give him strength. "I have no intention of calling on either of you in such a manner. Doctor McCoy will assure you of the same thing."

"He has." Spock conceded. It didn't sound as though he cared. "You must understand my continued vigilance."

"I do." Jim pursed his lips.

There was a pause.

"Our former master also had no such desires, but he gave no illusions to his apathy on the matter in his search for a buyer."

"A buyer?" _For Jane_? The thought of it sent horror along Jim's spine and a vicious joy for their previous master's fate skittering through his thoughts.

"He had retired from the military and was a trafficker by trade. He did find one, shortly before his accident."

Spock's voice was just this side of aloof, like the non-sequitur was about as relevant as the weather despite the way it hung in the air for Jim to mull over. Spock was threatening him, he realized. Jim should not have found that as attractive as he did.

"I see." he said evenly "Is there really anything I could say that would allay your fears?"

It wasn’t a question, more a statement to lead Spock to a conclusion he already knew.

Predictably, Spock replied "...I suppose not."

Jim turned around on the path to head back inside "I thought not. I will endeavor to make sure there are others around, should I encounter Jane again. I've already found she's hard to avoid." There was a hint of fondness in his words that he couldn’t hide as he spoke "I'll leave you to your meditation. Goodnight, Spock."

Jim doubted he'd be sleeping that night.

Spock doubted he would be able to return to his meditation. His skin was still outright tingling with the proximity of the Admiral's mind, overwhelming and distracting, addicting and entrancing.

And so strangely familiar.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 4th!

Leonard set his PADD away and sat back "Yep, no doubt about it, she's an empath."

Spock hovered beside him, eyebrows drawn in confusion. 

"How'd you figure this out again?"

"I asked her how she was so sure the Admiral was no threat. She informed me that he is, quote, 'somewhat afraid of her.'"

The doctor laughed for a good long while about that.

"I'm not surprised. Terrifying lot, the two of you."

Spock raised one eyebrow but refrained from commenting.

"As empathic abilities are somewhat opposite of my own, is there anything I ought to do to assist her?"

If he looked real close, Leonard could almost see how it pained Spock to ask such a question. He smirked to himself but alas, sympathy was a curse of his.

"It's no different for her now than it was ten minutes ago. Usually we recommend trying not to get too emotional around the young ones, but," Leonard shot him a meaningful look, "that's not really something you need to worry about, now is it?"

Jane watched them, no doubt taking in their conversation though she seemed uninterested. She'd grown bored with the test early on and they'd failed to get an accurate reading because she had been determined to get a "one-thousand seven-hundred and one" on it, would not explain further, and began throwing questions in an effort to reach her desired score. Leonard had given her full marks when she succeeded. Spock did not mention this because he suspected she would be disappointed.

"Ind-"

A strange chime rang through the house in the middle of his sentence. It was echoing and melodic, and Spock had never heard it before. Leonard's head came up, incredulity crashing over his features.

"What was that?" Jane asked curiously.

"The _doorbell_."

Leonard's tone communicated his disbelief clearly enough that Spock felt it could count for both of them.

 

"-stopped answering my calls!"

The fragment seemed the end of a long rant and possibly the beginning of a second, as Spock observed the mustached Scotsman take a deep breath at the end. Fortunately for Ms. Rand, the woman beside him cut in.

"We just want to talk to him, see how he's doing. The trial starts next month, and he still hasn't said whether or not he'll be there."

"And he's hosting the winter ball here in two weeks. That's going to be tough." the second man added.

"Okay, okay, I'll call him."

The third guest looked over to Spock as Ms. Rand buzzed the Admiral on her personal comm unit.

"Hello." he greeted, keen eyes finding him out of place.

"What am I, chopped liver?" Bones chimed from just behind Spock.

All three looked over now and broke into smiles.

"Doctor! Hello! How are you?"

Leonard walked over to them, accepting pats on the back and a hug from the woman.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose. It was pretty boring at first, but now-" he looked back to Spock, specifically to the blonde head poking conspicuously out from behind his legs. Quickly he lowered his voice "which reminds me, as long as you're here you call him ‘the Admiral’ and nothing else, got it?"

The Scotsman gave him a long, incredulous look, then turned and strode over to Spock.

"Captain Montgomery Scott. These two are Commander Hikaru Sulu and Commander Nyota Uhura."

Spock raised his hand into the ta’al "I am Spock." he gestured behind him "And this is Jane."

Uhura and Sulu murmured their hellos, Uhura smiling for Jane, who was no doubt staring in wonder at their uniforms. Scott's reaction was most interesting. His eyes went wide for a moment before he regained his composure and returned the ta’al.

"Nice tah meetcha."

Ms. Rand turned back to them and beckoned them over, leaving Spock feeling unsettled.

When the Captain passed Leonard, Spock found himself watching a confusing non-verbal conversation which composed of: Scott, nodding at him and mouthing 'Spock?', Leonard agreeing with a shrug, then Scott muttering 'the Admiral?' in a way that implied he was more interested in the name than the man, Leonard throwing up his hands and muttering 'it's a mess', and a final, disbelieving, much more difficult to decipher twitching motion reminiscent of a seizure, to which Leonard didn't reply but still got a dazed reaction.

All this happened before Ms. Rand spoke to them.

"He'll see you. I'll warn you though, he's not in the best of moods."

"Aye, lass, he's got bigger problems than us to worry about." Scott replied as they were lead up the stairs.

When they were out of sight, Jane asked:

"We're having a ball?"

 

Jim took off his glasses and rubbed a hand over his eyes as Scotty paced the room. Everyone was already as wound up as a Klingon at a tea party, himself included.

"Ya can't just sit here and let them do this to ya! We saved the whole of the Earth - and not just then, mind you, that was what, the fourth time?"

"Sixth, depending on your take on a threat." Sulu chimed.

Scotty held out a hand sharply as if to submit Sulu to evidence.

"He's right, Admiral. We're all ready to stand behind you." Uhura added.

"If you'd just fight, lad-"

"I don't want-" Jim bellowed, then took a deep breath to calm down "to fight. The Admiralty made its decision when they put me under house arrest. It's all over but the crying."

"Jim." Uhura said gently.

"But it doesn't have to be." Sulu tried.

Jim laughed humorlessly "They don't want me there, haven't in years, and frankly I'm not sure I want to go back. I'm a relic from an age slowly dying out; giving way to newer and different things." he shook his head "It had to end someday. Now's as good a time as any."

"But it's not right, sir." Scotty protested. He seemed lessened, somehow, in the face of Jim's acceptance of defeat. They all did, and had, even the ones who were too loyal for their own good and left with him. It hurt a bit to know he was the cause, but if he was being honest with himself, it hurt more to know that Starfleet really didn't have a place for him anymore.

 _A leader is a dealer in hope,_ his mind whispered treacherously. Well, he was short of supply, but he could try to ease their spirits at least.

"I know, Mister Scott." Jim replied, standing "I know, but it's the march of progress, as they say."

He reached for the ornate bottle of brandy he kept on the mantle, grabbing four glasses with it.

"Now, let's not end this visit on such a low note. Tell me how things have been since I saw you all last."

They all shared looks, then slouched and settled onto the couches while Jim poured them drinks.

 

"You have to air out these old rooms!"

Spock paused in walking at the outburst. He glanced around in search of the source and, after turning the corner of the wing, found a cloud of dust drifting in the sunlight streaming into the hall from a room he had yet to investigate.

Cautiously, he approached the door. As he did, Ms. Rand stalked out shaking a few curtains in a way that seemed more cathartic than utilitarian.

"Ms. Rand." Spock greeted, somewhat dubiously.

"Oh! Hello, Spock." She lowered the curtains "Sorry about the dust. Honestly, if I wasn't here the Admiral would let this place fall into ruin."

Spock had to admit that she probably wasn't wrong.

"He does not seem overly fond of it." he replied, fishing.

"No, not that I can blame him." She sighed "It's lovely though, and it doesn't deserve this treatment!"

Spock suspected she was not entirely speaking about the mansion.

"I suppose not." Spock agreed, taking some of the curtains from her hands in an effort to help. She seemed drawn and tense, a strange look on a woman he usually saw attacking tasks with ingenuity and near-violent enthusiasm.

"Oh, this is all so-so-" She beat her remaining curtains angrily, disturbing another cloud of dust from the fabric "This trial, the house arrest, even moving the ball here at the last minute so all those people can come gawk at him - it's just awful! He's right; this isn't the Starfleet I signed up for fifteen years ago!"

"I'm sure. If I might ask, what is the Admiral on trial for?"

Ms. Rand swung the curtains around a bit in her outrage "The Admiral saved all of us - and the Earth, not that anyone seems to care."

"It does seem strange that they would confine him to this town for heroism."

Ms. Rand's eyebrows drew down, her lips forming a tight bow as she continued.

"He...broke a lot of rules doing it. Stole federation property, insulted the Admiralty, and maybe bent the temporal time directive a little. But no one got hurt! If it wasn't for him there wouldn't even be a Starfleet anymore!" Rand was reddening in her anger "They all sat on their hands not doing anything, waiting for death, hoping someone might save them at the last minute, and when someone finally did they didn't even wait for the oceans to stop boiling before putting him on trial for it. They left him on active duty on the website because they know people would riot if they found out. Ooooh, it makes me so mad!"

"I see." Spock murmured, though he was reasonably sure he really didn't at all. "Is there cause for us to be concerned, should he lose?"

"No." Ms. Rand snapped, then deflated "I mean...you'll be fine, Spock, he'll make sure you and Jane are taken care of, but if he doesn't..."

She shook herself and straightened, balling the curtains up to carry it easier and reaching for the stack Spock had taken to do the same with it.

"I'm sorry, Spock, I shouldn't have unloaded all this on you. Don't worry about it too much. I hope you don't mind, I have to go - I have a party to plan." she offered him a bright smile and was off, calling back over her shoulder "I think you might like that room."

Spock tilted his head after her retreating form, wondering how she might have decided he had room preferences and what they were. Purely out of curiosity for the human condition, Spock looked inside.

The room _was_ quite stunning. White marble floors gave way to white-painted tin walls, set wide apart to make the room feel large. It seemed a studio of sorts. One wall that was pressed up against the garden was made of glass, letting light stream into the room, thin strips between tall sheets casting the occasional shadow over the white grand piano that sat nearby, lifted slightly off the floor by a simple wooden platform.

Spock found himself drawn to it. He stepped into the room; the soft echo of his footsteps amplified by the acoustics, and made his way over to the piano. Thin gold designs ran ornately up the legs and along the case. It seemed somewhat protected from the dust Ms. Rand had been attacking so harshly and he wondered if one of the curtains had actually been a cover.

He slipped around to the front where the sunlight was strongest and, with practiced care, tested one of the notes.

The sound rang out perfectly in tune, echoing through the room before trailing off. Spock was impressed - it was a finely made piano indeed. It had been many years since he'd been so close an instrument of any kind, let alone had the opportunity to use it. Not since the mastery. In fact, the last time he had played was for Jim.

Feeling nostalgic, he settled on the bench and set his fingers on the keys.

 

Jim felt tired. Scotty, Uhura and Sulu had finally left, but not without another plea for him to 'just think about coming' when he'd walked them to the door. He passed Janice on his way back to his floor, so passionately conducting her army of workers to ready the place for the ball that she failed to notice him as he slipped by. It was partially by design - he was in no mood to chat with anyone, least of all the crew who were losing their careers because of him. He winced at his own thoughts and would have turned back to say hello had she not been suddenly engulfed by the frantic decorating staff. Guilt could only make him face so much, so he edged away and continued his trek.

He was almost to the stairs when the sound of barely-there music turned his head. Down the hallway, one of the double doors to the piano studio was ajar. There was no way one of the staff had time to play right now, which left one person who could be the source.

Against his better judgment, Jim crept down the hall towards the room.

As he neared the door the notes of a familiar melody took shape. Rhapsody, Jim identified, with a rush of warmth so strong it nearly knocked him over. It ached to hear it again after so long but Jim couldn't have left if Janice's army had tried to drag him from the spot. He hovered behind the one closed door, listening, as enchanted as he had been the first time.

He'd forgotten, somehow, just the way the song sounded when Spock was at the keys, drifting wistfully from one chord to the next, a harmony that pulled feelings it had no business with to the surface.

Jim could picture him: his eyes unfocused if they were open at all, sheet music forgotten as his long, slender fingers danced with practiced grace over the bars of a song he knew by heart. Jim didn't need to imagine the concentration on his face or the slight part to his lips because he'd seen it before. Jim closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, thinking of the first time he'd heard Spock play the piece, back at the academy, on another day in another empty, sunlit room in Dubai, standing just outside the rays of light at the back of a piano, enchanted, just as he was now, and falling in love.

With every delicate note he fell back into the memory, to a smile playing on Spock's lips, and not noticing when he leaned to heavily on the piano and it started to dig into his side, and to knowing, in that moment, that he was gone on Spock and always would be.

He'd come around on the final notes of the song to sit beside Spock on the bench, so close he could feel the inhuman heat of him as he played, and when the music faded into the air Spock had turned to him. For an infinite moment they were lost in each other, and though not even their hands touched on the bench Jim was hard pressed to say he'd ever felt closer to someone. He hadn't kissed Spock the way he had wanted to, but it was the moment when he knew Spock would let him if he tried.

The song was a beautiful, melodic string linking them together, and linking them to the past. He lost track of the present as the sound flowed over him, wondering if Spock was remembering the same day as he played.

Slowly, the notes wound down and trailed off. Jim hung on the vibration of the last chord as though it was the very last he would ever hear. Even the silence after it didn't seem empty.

Then someone started clapping.

It was so loud and so near that Jim jerked back against the wall hard enough to hit his head. His eyes snapped open to find Jane standing in the open doorway, smiling excitedly.

"That was very beautiful, father." she said, serious words in contrast to her expression.

Jim flailed a bit, hoping that Spock hadn't heard him hit the wall, and she looked at him. He pressed a finger to his lips.

Jane, apparently well used to this game now, proceeded to ignore him completely.

"I didn't know you knew how to play." she said.

There was a pause, as though Spock was as surprised to see her as Jim was, before he replied.

"I have not had the occasion in many years."

Jane skipped inside and Jim took that as his que to sneak away.

"Can I learn?"

"Of course."

Just before Jim ascended the stairs he heard the careful notes of a beginner and smiled.

 

"This isn't what you were playing." Jane stated.

"Rachmaninoff is somewhat advanced material. It would be best if you learned the basics first."

"But I like that song. I know it."

He tried to think of a time when she might have heard the tune and found he could not. But there had been times in her life when he was not present, he supposed.

"There are many others I'm sure you would like just as much."

Jane hit the first few keys of the song in defiance, then returned to practicing the sets Spock had shown her. Spock raised his eyebrows a bit and resolved to increase the pace of his lesson plan.

"Ms. Rand says the party is a mas-qu-raid ball." Jane said suddenly.

"Is it?" he asked, wondering when in the last hour she’d made that decision.

"I believe we will be expected to remain in our rooms."

For another few minutes, the silence was only interrupted by Jane's hesitant key-pressing, her attempts to hide her pout admirable.

"If I get as good as you, will the Admiral come listen to me play?"

Spock, in the process of adjusting her hands on the keys, paused.

"Why do you ask?"

Jane shrugged, a human gesture she had picked up since arriving at the citadel. One he had seen several nights ago in near mirror perfection from their host.

"He came to listen to _you_ play."

Jane returned to the keys, found one that seemed of great interest to her, and played another two bars of Rhapsody. Spock attempted to keep his tone level when he spoke again.

"Did he?"

She nodded, methodically hitting each key in order now.

"He was behind the door. Adult hide-and-seek takes a very long time." She observed.

Unbidden, Spock's gaze snapped to the empty doorway. Illogical, he would not still be present if Jane was liable to reveal him.

"Indeed it does." Spock agreed.

 

"And another thing."

Leonard slapped down a fat folder onto the coffee table in his rooms.

"I can't make heads or tales of this. As far as I can tell, either Jane shouldn't exist or one of these other attempts should have taken hold. I'd need another residency if I wanted to get more than that."

M'Benga, who had a temperament forged in long days dealing with vulcans, sipped his tea behind Jane's test results.

"Hmm."

Leonard had to resist throwing something at him to make him address the pile of papers and unanswered questions on the table. M'Benga had come up from his clinic in town to join the visit with the crew and it seemed a good idea get an second opinion on this new empathic development. Except the last time he'd seen the other doctor, neither of them had a copy of Spock's medical records. Now Leonard realized that not only was "vulcan physiology" a damn lie because it was 50% physiology, 25% witchcraft, and 15% psychic mysticism and 10% secret, but that Spock, much as the man was loathe to admit it, _wasn't a vulcan_ and his body had seen fit to take the 50% of that concoction that Leonard wasn't trained in. And there was a part of him that was afraid he'd accidentally kill Spock because of it. So he'd resorted to pestering M'Benga for a few hours over the finer points of mediumship.

"Well?"

"Well what?" M'Benga lowered the file and surveyed the papers once before looking back at Leonard. M'Benga had seen Spock's file first, read the thing cover to cover and had yet to offer his thoughts on it. Leonard was done waiting.

"Any ideas? Are they able to control when it happens and when it doesn't?"

M'Benga leaned back on the sofa and shook his head. "No, not to the extent that these results show. Normally, yielding is as fallible as pregnancy. Plenty of vulcans are bred this way in the trade and that is what leads to the high rates of parental rejection. The surest way the traders have found to produce a sparked child - what they call them - is to have a vulcan take down all of another's shields and drag their katra as close to the surface as they dare. Having their shields torn away is damaging. I imagine that was what caused the scarring in Spock's brain."

Leonard sat on the other end of the couch, giving M'Benga his full attention "None of that sounds good, J, but none of it makes a lick of sense to me either. I'm a doctor, not a psychic."

M'Benga shrugged "To put it simply, they failed to see that Jane is the anomaly, not the failed attempts. Spock should never have been able to conceive a child through any means, and the reason he did even once must be determined before one can make any attempts to duplicate the results."

"You have a theory on that?"

"No. I have unconnected information. I know that the body is an extraordinary thing that often defies quantification. The vulcan body in particular can be incredibly resilient and stubborn when it so chooses - and I know that the human body can occasionally be even more so. Couple these together, as you must in this case, and perhaps it was enough for Spock's katra to take on a mind of its own. Tell me, Leonard, did they ever make you read about people who, by will or dumb luck, were so focused on their tasks or survival they failed to notice grave injuries?"

They didn't need to, Leonard though, remembering all the field triage he'd done over the years. "A few times."

"Miraculous how we are able to overcome our own physiology, don't you think? Just because we have things that are more important to us."

"Yeah, but those are stop-gap measures based in instinct. It's beneficial in crisis situations to not notice that you should be in shock and agony. It'd be more beneficial to re-grow a limb but that doesn't happen just because the body wants or needs it to."

M'Benga steepled his fingers, looking ahead in thought as he continued "But it's not a body we're dealing with, per se. No physical part of the parent is responsible for creating the child. In theory, they don't even need to touch the other person to start the process - Spock could have been forming Jane for weeks before they were separated, assuming his katra made contact with whatever we humans have in its place. Energy is simply gathered and stored until eventually a new katra manifests and that energy is used to make a body for it. It is entirely a process of the spirit; and therein lies the mystery factor, I believe."

Leonard sighed and rubbed his forehead "It makes no damn sense. I'm trained in tangible science, biology. Things you can touch and measure. And then vulcans come out with this intangible katra business. How the hell am I supposed to heal something I can't so much as take a reading on?"

"That is precisely why the practice is honored, since it has always been, for the vulcan people, proof of the existence of the soul."

He stood, setting Jane's file on top of Spock's.

"She's quite talented. I'm guessing you've already started thinking about getting her some training to control her empathy, so I'll refrain from suggesting it. From what I can tell they're in perfect health. Anything further-"

"We wait and see." Leonard scowled at the files. Doctor or no, he hated wait and see as much as anyone else.

M'Benga chuckled a bit "You're a galactically renowned doctor in frontier medicine. If anything happens you'll figure it out."

"I know that." Leonard snapped, climbing to his feet "And I think you mean when anything happens. Jane almost fell off the roof the other day."

"She is his daughter."

"She's the daughter of both of them. If you got to know Spock you'd know why that's even worse."

He scooped up the files to lock them in his desk while M'Benga gathered his coat.

"I should head back into town."

"Jim'll want an update on JaneGate. I'll see you to the door. And thanks, J."

"Any time."

 

"An empath?" Jim asked, smiling slightly.

"Yep, and a pretty strong one too. It makes sense as long as you don't look at it too long. What do you get when you mix you with a vulcan telepath? Actual, quantifiable abilities, that's what." Bones rolled his eyes "Then you try to work out where the hell that bit of genetic code came from and it all goes straight to hell and either has you believing in god or the devil, depending on perspective."

Jim laughed, holding his glass up in a toast to that.

"About what Scotty and the others came to say-"

Whatever he was going to add was cut off by a soft thump from behind the bookcase. Jim was inordinately glad for it, if very confused. He looked at Bones and they raised their eyebrows at each other.

"Don't look at me, I'm a medic." Bones said, tossing back his own drink.

With a small smile, Jim pushed himself out of his chair and walked to the offending bookcase. Already pretty sure he knew what he'd find, he pulled the wall scone beside it down and let the frankly ridiculous secret passage swing open.

Jane seemed to find this incredible, at least, given the way she was staring at it in wonder.

"Hello, Jane." Jim greeted.

"You have a real secret passage!" she announced.

"Yes, it was designed so that the king could escape in the event of an invasion." Jim agreed, helping her to her feet. "Are we under attack, or were you just testing to see if it still worked?"

"Oh, I wanted to ask you if father and I could come to the ball."

Jane let him set her on her feet and dusted herself off.

"I'll leave you two-"

Jim held up a hand quickly to stop Bones from leaving. "Please stay."

Bones raised an eyebrow, but settled back in the chair. He poured himself another drink and seemed to be getting ready for a show.

Jim ignored him and put his hands on his hips.

"And why do you want to go to some boring masquerade ball?" he asked.

Jane locked her hands behind her back and stood up perfectly straight, apparently ready for the question.

"I've never been to one before, and since the higher ranks of Starfleet are holding it I think it would be a useful cultural experience."

Bones snorted behind him.

"Well, I guess you're right." he smiled "But is that really the only reason?"

Suddenly Jane became very interested in the carpet.

"I've never been to a party before" she muttered "and I have all those nice clothes now."

"Ah." Jim nodded sagely "When you put it like that, I suppose you have to go."

Jane's head came up sharply, a smile breaking across her face.

"Really?"

"Oh absolutely. I can't let it stand that a wonderful girl like you hasn't been to a party."

Jane's smile reached blinding levels of brightness in the instant before she flung herself at Jim. Jim made a sound a bit like an 'oof' even though she weighed about as much as a feather pillow, hands hovering over her shoulders as she hugged him.

"Thank you!"

Jim tried to calm the racing of his heart, unsure how this turn of events had come about and a bit in wonder over it. Gingerly, he set his hands on her shoulders.

"You're welcome." he said, quieter than he'd meant to.

A second later she drew back and surreptitiously looked around the office. Jim huffed a laugh when her eyes caught on his mantle.

"Is that one of the blue seashells you told me about?" she asked, taking a few involuntary steps towards it.

Jim picked it up and held it out to her.

"It is. You can still hear the roar of the Kla-tha if you put it to your ear."

Bones was watching them over the back of the chair, his eyes suspiciously glossy "Shouldn't you be careful with that? It was a gift from a Queen."

Jane, who had been pressing it to her ear excitedly, turned big eyes on Jim.

Jim flapped his hand.

"It's not that big of a deal."

"You said you only met her once!" Jane declared, clearly betrayed.

"I did!" Jim held up his hands "At a ceremony where they thanked me for fixing their water shortage. It was a simple thank-you, that's all."

Jane and Bones actually shared a look, which Jim thought was unfair.

"If you want the real story, you should come down to the infirmary. Chapel and I won't leave out all the good stuff." Bones informed her.

"No, you'll just make me look bad."

"You do that all on your own."

Jane giggled at them, carefully setting the seashell back where it came from. It was almost too high for her, causing her to knock a book down as she did. Jim caught it before it could hit the floor. Jane at once looked guilty and took immediate interest.

"Sorry!" she said to the book.

Jim held it in his hands for a moment before turning it to her, showing the cover's swirling inscription of _'A Tale of Two Cities_.'

"This one's too special for the library." he said, putting it back.

"Why's that?" she asked, watching it.

"It was given to me by someone I love."

"Oh." she looked at it for another moment before moving on.

"Who's that?" Jane asked, pointing to a picture. Jim turned it so the glare from the lamp didn't obscure the image and saw himself, younger, and Gary. Gary had his arm slung over Jim's shoulders, a mischievous grin on his face, while Jim looked fractionally alarmed. He was such a geek back then. If he remembered right, it had been taken the same week Gary had dragged him to the mastery and he'd met Spock.

"That's Gary Mitchell. He was a friend of mine."

Jane tilted her head at him.

"Was?"

Jim nodded and righted the picture.

"He was killed on a mission. Space is as dangerous as it is incredible, unfortunately."

Jane was quiet while she processed this.

"Did you see a lot of people die when you were a Captain?"

"I...don't know if I should say."

"I saw someone die once."

Jim's heart skipped a beat. He shot a glance at Bones, who was frowning now and had his doctor face on. "Who...?"

"Nana T'Pol. She took care of me when d- when father was ill. We were leaving, but someone saw us and she got hurt."

Jane frowned and Jim waited, expecting more and giving her his full attention. The auction house had warned him that Spock was suspected in an escape attempt made the night their former master had been poisoned. He was beginning to think he should read the report, given what Spock had hinted about the poison’s source.

"Was Gary happy when he died?"

Jim thought of it, the last moments when he was Gary again and not possessed by power. "He...was at peace. I don't think anyone is really happy to die."

"Nana T'Pol was. She was always sad, but when she was dying she was happy." She looked down, scuffing the carpet with her feet. "Father is sad like that too."

She didn't finish the thought, but Jim heard it loud and clear. He set a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently.

"It sounds like your Nana had lost a lot." he said "Sometimes, when someone loses too much, it becomes a kind of sickness in their heart. If it gets too bad then...death can bring a kind of serenity. Do you know if anyone took her katra?"

Jane shook her head, brushing the scraggly ends of her hair over the back of Jim's hand. "She wouldn't let daddy take it. She said she wanted to go where humans do."

Whoever this woman was, his heart went out to her. He hoped she'd found her peace.

"Ah." Jim said eloquently.

"She hadn't lost everything though" Jane frowned "Nana had us."

"And I know that helped her. But sometimes there's nothing anyone else can do. Your father's not one of those cases." he made sure she was looking at him as he continued. "He's not going to leave you, Jane. He loves you too much to ever be happy about that."

Jane nodded. Jim could tell she was unconvinced. He drew her over to lean against his side and looked at the picture with her.

"I'm sad too, aren't I?" Jim asked softly, and she nodded again "As a fellow sad person, you can take my word for it."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling a little down so have a chapter 5 hours early.

He's in the garden.

The air is warm and sweet, the flowers rustling in a light breeze. The sun is pinwheeling too fast in circles along the horizon, never rising or setting, just circling, spinning long shadows about wildly. It's spellbinding in the way a wildfire might be; the implications for the planet are dire but the garden seems undisturbed and the roil of the clouds is hypnotically lovely.

Then the sun steps out of the sky, rolls lazily up the path towards him. The flowers and trees bend to it, reaching for the light with reverence, but it passes them to come closer to Spock. It doesn't stop when it reaches his feet. The light and warmth press onward, blinding him and engulfing him, and when it speaks its voice is eternal, familiar.

" _See you soon_."

Spock woke up.

For a moment he stared at the ceiling overhead and regretted not meditating the night before. Then he pushed himself to his feet and walked to the bathroom.

 

The citadel was in a state of chaos.

The staff was clambering to complete last-minute preparations, most of them wild-eyed and running through the halls for reasons Spock could only guess at. Ms. Rand could usually be found at their epicenter, and had anyone asked him where the leftover supplies were he would have directed them to her hair. Much to her chagrin, guests were arriving early to get their rooms, an ever-growing trickle through the front hall of finery and military stiffness. Spock avoided them, partially because he had no desire for pleasantries and partially because he knew some of them rather intimately.

He located Jane after some digging in a pile of clothes in her closet.

"Is there a reason you have upended the contents of your drawers onto the floor?"

Jane looked at her feet sulkily when he lifted her from the pile and set her on the floor. "The Admiral said that if you really want to understand a something you have to immerse yourself in it."

Spock raised an eyebrow "And you want to understand your wardrobe?"

She frowned "I can't pick which dress I should wear."

Spock blinked at her, then the pile of clothes.

"I believe you will be stunning in whatever you chose."

Jane smiled a bit, then frowned some more "That doesn't help."

"It never does."

Jane and Spock both looked to the door to see Chapel watching them with a smile. She had yet to start preparing for the ball herself and was dressed in her usual blue uniform, her hair pinned in a bun.

"If I may?" she asked. Spock glanced at the pile of clothes again.

"Please," he said, all but ushering her in "It has been some time since I have needed to consider these things, and I find am out of practice."

Chapel was delighted - and so was Jane, as the nurse systematically eliminated the majority of the pile. Spock took notes, trying to find a methodical pattern to what made one outfit "too stuffy" and another "too summer" and another simply "eh." He liked to think that by the time Jane had picked a dress, a white-silver godet with long sleeves and Queen Ann neckline, he had dusted off his fashion knowledge to passable.

"What do you think, father?" Jane asked, holding it up for him to see.

"A wise choice."

She smiled broadly until Chapel tangled her hands in Jane's scraggly blonde locks.

"We've got to do something about this hair!"

Jane ducked away and tugged at it. Then she lit up with inspiration and looked to Spock.

"Can I cut it?"

"Not yourself." Spock allowed.

Chapel laughed and pushed herself to her feet, already steering Jane towards the bathroom.

"How do you want it?"

"Like father's."

Spock tilted his head at the request. Such a style would showcase her usually-covered ears. Spock had been the source of that particular self-consciousness, unfortunately, and there was something warming about her shaking it off now. He imagined her with the hairstyle consideringly.

"Perhaps we should add gloves to the ensemble."

Jane looked down at her hands, as if picturing them.

"Why?"

"It's customary for most vulcans at alien gatherings."

Jane looked to Chapel, who put a finger to her lips in thought.

"I think it would look very nice."

"Okay." Jane said, looking pleased with the development as Chapel lead her towards the bathroom.

When they moved from his line of sight and all he could hear was the low bubble of their voices and the clink of metal and porcelain, he looked around. The room was even more of a disaster than it had been when he arrived, but it would have to wait. It was about time that he started getting ready too.

 

Against form, Spock entered from one of the doors at the side of the ballroom. Jim found himself slightly disappointed. He'd been looking forward to watching Spock descend the stairs like royalty. He certainly looked the part - the clothes he was wearing must have been vulcan, his shirt jet black with billowing sleeves and foreign silver script on the front, his pants a similar light-absorbing color. His mask was simple, it covered his eyes and curled down to the end of his nose, black as the rest of his outfit and lined with silver along the edges. He looked stunning, and the sight of him made Jim's heart ache and breath stutter all at once.

Jane was by his side, radiant as always, her hair cut short to the traditional vulcan style. She was a contrast and a half to him - blonde hair, silver dress and white mask, smiling, eyes wide with wonder where Spock was assessing the room calmly. Jim knew that if he were closer he would be able to make out the emotions he was hiding in the depths of his eyes, trace the source of the hesitance in his step, but he refrained from tempting fate.

Jim was one of those plebeian masses in a tuxedo, but his mask was much flashier and more excessive than most. This was by necessity, of course, since he and Spock were in the same room (and not because he hoped he wasn't recognized often). It covered the right side of his face entirely with gold-detailed red porcelain, stretched across his forehead and hung low on his cheekbone so only the lower left side of his face was visible at all. So far it had done a pretty good job of disguising him from the majority of the party goers.

The hors d'oeuvres were about to come around and Commodore April was making his way over, so he pulled on his best command grin and got ready to entertain. Just before he turned away he saw none other than Montgomery Scott dragging Uhura over to intercept Spock. He had the presence of mind to both hope they got along and pray they wouldn't.

 

"Father, why aren't you wearing gloves too?" Jane asked quietly as they walked into the ballroom.

The lighting was adequate and not a photon more, soft enough to be flattering and grant an air of majesty to the golden decorations lining the room. Starfleet officers and their guests milled about making small talk while servers wove through them with glasses of expensive champagne, all in masks of varying sizes and origins.

"I'm afraid my status prevents it." Spock replied absently.

"Wouldn't mine too then?"

"You are a child. The circumstances are different."

"Spock!"

Spock turned to see a rather round man coming his way, his tall form clearing a path for the woman by his side.

"Sir?"

The man reached him and tipped up his mask so Spock could see his face.

"Ah, Captain Scott."

Scott replaced his mask and slapped Spock's arm in greeting "Good to see you again!"

"Mister Spock." The woman greeted. Now that he knew to look, he could see it was the same woman who had come to visit the Admiral, her dark skin radiant in the light of the chandeliers, dressed now in a blue silk dress and matching, glittering mask.

"Commander." he greeted "Can I assume Commander Sulu is here as well?"

"Oh no lad, Captains and up." he leaned in conspiratorially "She's my plus one."

Commander Uhura rolled her eyes slightly as he slung an arm over her shoulders "I'm here to keep him out of trouble."

"Sulu's in a right snitch about not getting to this one, though - they're taking their sweet time with his promotion." Scotty snickered about this, so Spock had to assume the delay had little to do with the incident that had put the Admiral in the citadel.

Jane, who had covertly taken shelter behind the over sized sleeves of his robes, peeked out. Uhura caught sight of her and smiled kindly.

"Hello dear. Jane, isn't it?"

Her fingers snagged in the dangling fabric at Spock's wrist, Jane nodded. Spock had a moment to wonder at her shyness before he realized that she had had all of three occasions in her life to meet new people, including this one, and the first two were not under the best of circumstances.

"I'm Nyota. It's nice to see you again."

Jane fidgeted a bit, then said quietly "He said you were a Commander."

"I am. I served on a few deep space missions as a communications officer."

"Did you get to go on away teams?"

"Sometimes." Uhura smiled brightly, something mischievous shining in her eyes "I even got to lead a few. Once, all the boys got hypnotized by aliens and I had to form a rescue mission to save them."

Jane left the protection Spock had provided and came forward excitedly "You did?"

"Aye." Scott agreed "You were ravishing!"

Uhura laughed and Scott crouched to see her better "You're a stunning one yourself, aren't you?" he looked considering "There's just one thing missing."

Uhura chuckled into her drink, Spock assumed because she had seen this many times before. Scott reached behind Jane's ear and returned with a blue flower.

"Aha! That's it!"

Spock was in the process of saying that such a move was illogical, since it was one of the flowers from the centerpieces and look how obvious the sleight of hand had been, but Jane lit up with a delighted grin on her lips. Scott placed the flower behind her ear and Spock closed his mouth, relenting.

"Did you learn that in space?" Jane asked excitedly.

"Oh, yes," Scott said as he pushed himself to his feet "There was a planet that gave us magic powers, but wee ones, and I never told anyone but I kept mine when we left."

Uhura thwapped him on the shoulder. "Don't make things up."

"It could've happened!" Scott insisted "We met Abraham Lincoln for heaven's sake!"

Uhura, ignoring him, plucked a glass of something dark from a passing busser and focused on Spock so casually that he almost didn't notice the glint in her eyes.

"So Spock, tell us about yourself."

A cursory glance at Scott confirmed that he was letting the more diplomatic of the couple ask a question he was very interested in, as well. Vaguely disquieted by it, Spock raised one eyebrow.

"My profession must be obvious to you."

Scott waved his hand dismissively "Of course, but you've got to have hobbies. From what I hear you have the run of this place most of the time and I know Vulcans don't sleep much." His eyes sparkled. "We have a rare opportunity to see into the Admiral's mind with you. We're invested!"

Uhura sighed as though Scott's behavior was common and exasperating, but made no attempt to amend the situation. Spock folded his hands behind his back and raised one eyebrow.

"Would I be correct in assuming that you mean that in the traditional monetary sense?"

Scott and Uhura blinked for a moment.

Then they both started laughing.

"Sharp, aren't you?" Scott cackled. "I think that's a point to me!"

Spock held himself a little straighter, feeling satisfied by the reaction for reasons he did not quite understand.

"Shame on you, ambushing him at the door," said a familiar voice.

Scott and Uhura broke apart to reveal Nurse Chapel and Doctor McCoy behind them.

"Christine!" Uhura set a hand on her shoulder, bare but for the red strap of her crimson dress. "I was so sorry to miss you last time!"

"C'meer old man!" Scott called, grabbing Leonard in a bear hug and following up with one for Chapel. Spock began to suspect the man was slightly inebriated.

"You two," Leonard said, putting his navy suit back in order, "need to focus on something other than the pool."

“Says the man with the direct line.”

Jane tugged on the dangling sleeve of his shirt to get his attention.

"We have a pool?" she asked quietly.

Spock refrained from sighing. "A betting pool."

"Ohh."

Spock glanced at her and saw that she did, in fact, understand, and decided he ought to monitor her literary choices a bit closer.

On the stage, the orchestra was readying to play, signaling to the guests that the dancing was to start soon. People were either clearing out or choosing partners in preparation.

"Warp physics," Spock said, surprising himself.

"What?"

"You inquired about my hobbies. I find studying warp physics and xenobiology, among other things, to be intellectually stimulating."

Scott's eyes practically gleamed with something predatory. "Is _that_ so?"

"Oh, no, now you've done it." Uhura sighed, covering her face with her free hand.

Scott threw an arm around his shoulder, starting to grin. "So tell me, what do you think of Thy'lek's new theories?"

Spock narrowed his eyes slightly. "They are interesting, if you do not consider their use in applied theory."

"And why do you say that?" Scott asked, sounding somewhat offended.

"Thy'lek Tella's theories break down when applied to common, tested warp science. I am surprised that the article received peer review status with such a glaring error."

Definitely offended, though he seemed to be gearing up for an exciting conversation.

"Oh god, there're two of them," Leonard muttered.

"Don't _hold up_? I'll admit there are some bugs, but if you take the recent additions to relativity into account-"

"Excuse me," a young but strong voice interrupted. All eyes turned to a tiny dark-skinned Vulcan boy who had appeared at the edge of the group. To his credit, he didn't flinch.

"I apologize for the interruption. If it is agreeable, I would like to ask the young lady to dance."

Spock observed the boy. He wore the traditional grey formal robes of the Vulcans along with a pair of white gloves, his hair cut close to his head in the ways of the northern people. Spock looked to Jane, who seemed to be leaning towards the opportunity itself. She must have been bored, he realized, standing around listening to them talk.

"Can I, father?"

Slightly dazed, Spock nodded. The boy bowed as she left their circle to join him, ushering her ahead of him in a gentlemanly way. Spock watched them go with an uncomfortable feeling growing in his chest.

Scotty whistled low.

"That's one brave boy. Right in front of her dad!" he turned to the doctor and Chapel "any idea, medically, how he carries cajones that big around?"

Chapel laughed a bit and shook her head "None."

Leonard, for his part, flagged a busser and pointed at a dark brown drink.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Chocolate rum, sir." the busser replied.

"Perfect." Leonard swiped it and held it out to Spock "Father to father, this will do wonders on that sinking feeling in your gut."

Spock took the drink, pursing his lips just a bit.

"While I don't doubt alcoholism has its allures, I would rather not develop it."

They laughed and Leonard scowled until Ms. Rand appeared in their midst.

"What did I miss?" she asked, smiling.

Another round of boisterous greeting started, and distantly, as they drew him back into the conversation, he heard Jane's voice rise excitedly over the crowd.

"My name's Jane, what's yours?"

 

Jim bowed to the woman across from him, a stately vulcan with dark skin and a darker dress complimented by long, black lace gloves, and she bowed in return.

"My lady." he greeted.

"Sir."

Jim had been looking forward to this part of the night. Dancing, not being recognized, feeling like a part of Starfleet again. Another pair joined the floor nearby as the conductor entered the ballroom.

"Is something the matter?" asked a small, logical voice.

"I don't know how."

Jim glanced over and found himself smiling.

The boy with her puffed up at the thought of teaching her "I do." he declared.

"Hey, don't I know you?" Jim asked.

Jane looked up and seemed lost, so Jim pulled his mask up and pressed a finger to his lips. She brightened instantly, a smile breaking over her face and seeming to surprise the boy.

"Admiral!"

Jim replaced the mask, tutting "No, no, I'm someone else entirely. I'm the masked man."

Jane giggled again, and the boy blinked.

"Now, I hear you're learning how to dance."

He gave them an exaggerated once-over, noting that Jane had taken the side of the lead, and nodded as though he found this satisfactory.

"If you get stuck, just copy me." he smiled as the music started, holding out a hand to the vulcan across from him with a flourish. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jane copy the movement.

Yeah, this would be a good night.

 

Spock sipped the champagne one of the Admiral's friends - he hadn't seen which one - had shoved into his hands earlier in an attempt to interrupt his discussion with Mister Scott. All of them had since joined the dance. Scott had spent the better part of an hour entertaining Jane with magic tricks while Uhura regaled her with stories of her time in space with the Admiral, and now Scott was spinning Uhura about in a facsimile of a dance, but she was laughing so he was forced to assume she was not in distress. Jane had since returned to the young man who had so boldly asked her to dance, which was logical, he told himself, as they were the only ones that height. They had left the floor to sit in the chairs by the wall, Jane talking animatedly and the boy looking somewhat befuddled by her. Leonard had been dancing with Ms. Rand for some time, but had now disappeared.

In a tumble of inebriated limbs, Ms. Rand and Nurse Chapel stumbled out of the crowd towards him, laughing happily with each other.

"Spock!" Rand called, her eyes sparkling "You look like someone stroked your fur the wrong way. Have you danced at all?"

"Negative." Spock replied flatly.

Chapel followed his narrowed gaze to Jane and the boy and scoffed.

"Let her be, Spock, she's just making friends. No need to worry about them stealing her away for at least a few more years."

Spock consciously didn't frown. After a moment of this, Chapel's eyebrows raised.

"Spock, you need a distraction. Get out on that floor, doctor's orders."

Spock had a few choice things to say to that, but as he was about to say them he considered that she might have a point.

"You are not a doctor." he said, setting his glass down with an air of resignation.

"Two more months and she will be, so if I were you I'd listen." Rand giggled.

"So be it." Spock muttered gloomily.

He turned to the undulating tides of party-goers. A second later Spock found himself unceremoniously shoved forward. He glanced back, already getting pulled in as the dancers prepared to switch.

"Dance, Spock. Have fun!" Chapel called, then said more quietly to Ms. Rand, amused, "You'd think he was going to execution."

A new song started and Spock danced with a few disguised officials, as prescribed.

On the third switch, he looked back to watch Jane with trepidation clawing at his heart. Illogical, he knew - they were children, and he had no business worrying now. Still, he watched Jane for another moment before turning to his next partner.

And caught his breath.

Even as extensive as the mask was, there was no question in Spock's mind of who he was standing before.

Jim Kirk.

For a moment all the sound went out of the world as he stared into hazel-blue eyes and fought to let the emotions that crashed over him diffuse rather than burst from his skin. Jim was barely touched by age, his hair less straight, probably from the lax dress code. He was dressed simply, with no indication of where his life had taken him.

In the space of and instant he knew Jim recognized him as well - he must have, as Spock had taken little care to hide his identity. His eyes shone with an old feeling, a saudade smile on his lips as their eyes locked. Spock took a slow, steadying breath as Jim bowed and held out his hand.  
Jim's hand was empty, but Spock felt there was a piece of himself in it, one that had been missing for so long the ache was a part of him, and as their hands slid together it fell back into place as if it had never been gone.

It took a herculean effort to block out Jim's thoughts as Jim stepped in close and settled a hand on his waist. Looking into his eyes, Spock found himself grateful for this one, final moment, even if it would be fleeting.

The music began anew, and though he had been aware of what composition it was before, the delicate cadence of the piano solo in the concerto of Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini sent a shiver of inevitability down his spine. Were Spock a man who believed in destiny, this would have proven it to him. The moment was not lost on Jim. Spock felt a bubble of humor and heard the faintest whisper of ' _how poetic_ ' as Jim began to lead.

The music wrapped around them, caressed their skin with its melody, and in a cliché neither had known could be so true, the world fell away. In the dim light of the ballroom they danced.

There was simplicity to it, Spock noted - none of the hurt or time mattered, so long as this one, fragile instant lasted. He didn't listen in, but he let Jim's presence wrap around and engulf him the way the strange sunlight with his voice had in a dream not hours ago. He felt, incredibly, the love he once had fully to himself brushing along his skin. _I have missed you_ , he wanted to say, but didn't, wouldn’t risk losing him a second sooner than he had to.

Unnoticed to them the conductor called out "switch!” and on the side of the dance floor, a sharp motion when Rand caught sight of them and grabbed Chapel's arm to direct her attention, fingers white on the stem of her glass.

"That one was the source of a lot of heartbreak for Jim. Nearly cleaned out my swill a few times over the years." Scotty said from where he was watching, too, leaned against a pillar swirling his own liquor thoughtfully "I think I'm starting to see why."

The piano gave way to the rest of the orchestra, lifting and swirling around them so Jim picked up the pace of their steps. Spock followed along seamlessly, as though every step was predetermined as the rise of the sun.

There was no space between them anymore; Jim's thumb was tracing absent circles on the webbing between Spock's thumb and forefinger, and every moment or breath seemed to ease them further into a single, complete being.

Spock found himself leaning too close, drinking in Jim's presence like an addiction long denied.

For an undetermined amount of time, they and the dance floor beneath them were the only things left in the universe.

Eventually, like all things, the music came to an end, and they slowed to a stop. They didn't break apart, and for a split, resonant second, everything was quiet, the air felt soft as velvet, and their lips hovered a hair's breadth apart.

Then sound filtered back into their world, the low murmur of voices as the guests moved to the edges for a break, and reluctantly they drew back. Spock lingered an extra second, keeping their fingers entwined as long as possible, and for an instant he entertained the idea that Jim might say one of the things that were swirling in his eyes. Then he let go, nodding, because there was nothing left to say, and Jim let him.

When the next dance began, Spock had disappeared from the lineup.

 

Once in the hallway outside the light and rancor of the ball, Spock set a forearm on the wall with the intention of drawing only a modicum of strength before returning. Somehow he ended up leaning most of his weight on it instead. He willed himself to be calm. This had been his choice. His control should not be shattered so easily by Kirk after so many years.

Any attempt at regaining it was interrupted by a slurred voice behind him.

"Hey, I know you."

Spock turned to see a man staring at him, his mask in one hand and a nearly-empty glass held perilously in the other. With great exasperation, he recognized an associate of Pike's. A commodore, if he remembered correctly.

"You're Admiral Pike's-"

The commodore hiccupped in the middle of the word and seemed to forget to try again. "Pretty thing, ain'tcha? Bet I could make you feel real good."

Spock drew himself up a bit, frowning.

"I belonged to Admiral Pike once, but I am now in the service of the master of this house. As I have no obligation to you, I must decline."

The man's face twisted into a slow sneer as he worked out the dismissal.

"Whatever. Even used goods are more than that traitor deserves."

He spat on the ground at Spock's feet, tipping forward when the motion threw off his equilibrium.

"Hey." snapped a familiar voice from the mouth of the hall, accompanied by stomping footsteps and a fizzle of familiar anger that tinged the air. "The hell do you think you're doing, Wes?"

Leonard planted his feet and scowled at the commodore, effectively redirecting his ire.

"Lapdog to the rescue." he muttered, then stalked off with a withering look in Leonard's direction.

Once he was gone the doctor turned to Spock, a wary look about him.

"You okay?"

"I am...fine."

Leonard lowered his eyebrows slightly "You don't look fine."

"Fine has many definitions, doctor." Spock replied, leaning some of his weight back on the wall "I suppose, in this instance, it defines my state rather well."

Leonard seemed to want to say more, and Spock did not. Again, as was the norm with the doctor, what actually happened was quite contrary. Leonard remained quiet, and Spock found himself talking into the silence.

"...You know that Admiral Pike was not Jane's progenitor."

"Yeah." Leonard said, somewhat gruffly.

"Her other father is here."

"What?"

There was something about Leonard's reaction that cried for closer inspection, but the mental racket of the ball was too loud and Spock was suddenly very tired.

"It's a masquerade ball, Spock. How would you know it was him?"

"I am a telepath" Spock quipped, eyebrows high "and even disregarding that...he is not a man one forgets easily. I am surprised it took seeing him for me to know he was present."

Leonard was quiet, suspiciously so. Unwilling and unprepared to question it, Spock changed the subject.

"Might I inquire why you left the ballroom?"

"Are you ever going to stop being so formal?" Leonard replied, stalking forward and slapping a ball of fabric against his chest. "Got you these. I figured you had a reason to be playing the wallflower."

Spock took the so-kindly offered gift and stared at them. They were thin black gloves, seamless suede that would clasp at his wrists.

"I am not permitted to wear them."

Leonard rolled his eyes "Trust me, if the Admiral knew you weren't his fragile heart would break."

"But how will anyone know my status?"

"They won't."

Spock lifted his eyebrows at this, expecting further explanation and, because he knew the doctor, knowing none was coming.

"If you want to have sweaty make-outs with the brass you go right ahead-"

"No." Spock said quickly, setting the drink he had retrieved on a hallway table and slipping them on. He flexed his fingers, getting used to the feeling.

"What?" Bones asked gruffly.

"They are a bit snug."

Leonard bristled "Well, sorry they're not up to your standards, princess, but I didn't exactly have time to call a tailor."

"I do not recall gaining noble status in the past few hours, but your assumption is appreciated." Spock replied, pushing off the wall and retrieving his glass. It reminded him of the shield now covering his fingers. "Thank you, doctor." he said, quietly sincere "now if you don't mind, I would rather not leave Jane unattended for any more time."

Leonard scowled, but his lips twitched upwards at the edges.

"Oh you're going to have a _great_ time when she hits thirteen."

It took considerable willpower for Spock to avoid searching the dancers for a comically large mask and captivating eyes when he walked back into the light, but he managed it.

 

"Jim!"

Jim blinked at the sudden change of lighting when Bones all but shoved him out onto an empty balcony.

"Bones, if you wanted to catch me alone all you had to do was-"

"Did you dance with Spock?!" he interrupted. Something about his expression made Jim's smile fall.

"I-" Jim frowned tightly "So what if I did? It's a masquerade ball."

"He recognized you, you idiot!" Bones hissed.

Jim tensed, feeling suddenly more sober.

"He couldn't have."

"He told me, word for word, that Jane's father was here. He _knew,_ Jim."

Jim swallowed hard "He must've realized after."

Bones scowled "I highly doubt that. I think he knew from the moment he laid eyes on you."

"That's not possible, Bones! Why wouldn't he have said something if he knew me?"

"I don't know, why didn't you?"

"Because I'm a flawed individual with many emotional problems which, I might add, would be a non-issue for Spock. I thought we'd established this." Jim replied, trying for light. Bones gave him a hard look.

A terrifying thought wormed its way into Jim's head, bringing with it a burst of anxiety "Spock doesn't know I'm the host, does he?"

Bones sighed. "No, he hasn't connected you with 'the Admiral', though I found Commodore Wesley in the hall with him about to spill the beans - and from the look of it, give you the kind of reference that gets people blacklisted."

Jim breathed in relief and sank back against the balcony railing.

"Thanks, Bones." he flashed a weak smile, then rubbed a hand over his mouth.

Bones kept staring at him, frown fixed in place on his lips.

Jim looked up at the bars across the sky, again reveling in their irony. Past them it was a beautiful night, the stars bright in the dark indigo sky, the Milky Way cutting a blue wheel over their heads.

"It's nice out here. I think I'd like to stay for a while."

"I think you're depressed." Leonard said without ceremony.

Jim laughed lightly "I'm inclined to agree with you."

"Jim, I'm serious. You're not acting like yourself. Chekov called the other day-"

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not talk about that."

"Damnit, man!" Bones said it so loud that Jim almost jumped "I thought that giving you time was the right thing, but now I'm starting to change my mind. You can't just hide from everything and expect it to go away - the world is bound to move on without you. Now, you've got men out there ready to throw away their lives for you-"

"That's exactly what I'm trying to avoid." Jim interrupted, his voice strong and harsh. Then he sighed and set down his glass on the flat top of the railing.

"Who is the highest ranking officer on a ship, Bones?"

Bones folded his arms "The Captain, obviously."

"Obviously." Jim repeated bitterly "The Captain, not a Rear Admiral."

Jim could feel Bones' stare drilling holes into the back of his head and turned to face him "Commanding a starship was my destiny, Bones. Now that's over, one way or another. I'm not meant to give orders from a corner office in San Francisco." He shook his head "I've lived my glory days. I want everyone to be able to continue their lives past this, let me fall into obscurity."

Bones stared at him for a good, long minute, either to be sure he was done or because he was trying to try to process what he was hearing or both. Then he dropped his hands and got right up in Jim's personal space.

"You think that's fair?" he started "You can't just decide when we should stop giving a damn what happens to you! You want to retire then fine, but don't expect us to stand by and watch you martyr yourself in a last ditch effort for glory!"

"Bones, you know that's not-!"

"No. If you get to be selfish, then I damn well do too. I'm going to that trial, Jim, and I'll throw myself on their alter just to spite you."

Bones' eyes held a dark kind of promise in them, sucking the fire out of Jim's righteous anger somehow even as he tried to summon it.

"And where the hell does Spock fall into all this? You think he'll be happy never getting to ask you where the hell you were on auction day? You think he's happy _now_ , with you pulling your ghost act and leaving him jumping at shadows waiting for the other shoe to drop?"

Bones shoved away, eyes wild with rage "You need to get your shit together, Jim. Deal with it, or I'll do a poor job of dealing with it for you."

Jim blinked a few times rapidly, trying and failing to find a justification, a rebuttal that held any weight against Bones' clenched fists and imploring stare.

"I'm sorry, Bones." he said finally, weakly.

"That's a start." Bones snapped.

Jim deflated on a long exhale and turned back to the stars. They were a comfort, familiar and unchanging. Bones stayed quiet, as if it was Jim's turn to talk now. Finally, Jim lifted his glass to his lips and took a sip.

"Head back in. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Bones sighed, but did as he was bid. Just before he disappeared through the curtains Jim called after him.

"You shouldn't have followed me here. I'm not worth that kind of loyalty anymore."

Bones scoffed "Kid, I've been doing it so long I'm not sure I know how to do anything else."

Jim watched the stars twinkle at him for a few minutes after he left.

"He might be right." he told them. As always, they didn't reply. Jim downed the rest of his drink for courage before walking back into the light and racket of the ballroom.

 

The ball was winding down, the music slow and lazy as the orchestra played its last piece. The guests had thinned considerably and the ones that remained were wilting fast. Armed with surprisingly well-shielded gloves, Spock had returned to the floor without incident. There had been no more surprise run-ins with phantoms of the past, for which he could almost convince himself he was grateful. Scott and Ms. Rand were the only members of the original group left, Rand out of necessity and Scott due to his respectable stamina.

Spock may have abused the ambiguity he now possessed. He had immersed himself in conversation with scientists he had only read papers by, challenged principals and had his own challenged in turn. Some might have said he had enjoyed the night, had any of the people who knew him had the opportunity.

Now, however, he excused himself from the researchers who were, if anything, more awake now than they had been at the start (due he suspected to their usual late hours) to collect Jane.

It was quite easy to do. She was dozing lightly beside her friend on the chairs where he had seen her last.

"Jane." he said softly as he approached "I think it is time for us to be leaving."

Jane snapped awake for about a second to grab the boy's arm, then drooped again.

"Just a little longer, daddy?" she muttered.

"Any longer and you will undoubtedly be asleep." Spock replied, picking her up much to her chagrin.

"Tuvok."

Spock turned to find a vulcan woman addressing the boy. He woke much easier than Jane had but still appeared somewhat groggy. The woman lifted him up and nodded to Spock.

"It appears our children have enjoyed each other's company. If you are amenable, they could contact each other through subspace communication."  
It took more than it should have for Spock to say more than 'yes.'

"I...realize that our station may not be obvious..." Spock began reluctantly, but the woman shook her head.

"I know very well what you are." she nodded to Jane "The humans may view them as commodities, but to vulcans, children such as these are sacred."

The woman looked at him, considering "You are one yourself, are you not?"

"I would not know." Spock replied "I was orphaned when I was very young."

"I see." she bowed her head slightly in sympathy "Well, the two of you must be something. I've never seen him this well-behaved for such a long time."

Then she smiled at him. Nothing a human might have noticed, but an emotion about the corners of her lips, and it was such a contrast to the blank faces and emotionless actions of the vulcans he'd seen in passing and the few he'd met that he found himself staring.

After a beat, she continued "I will leave my contact information with the master of the house. If he agrees, they can contact each other."

"I- thank you, my lady."

"T'Meni, please."

"Spock."

She nodded "If you do not mind my asking, she is...?"

"Three-quarters human." Spock provided.

T'Meni tilted her head just slightly "You are half?"

"I am."

"Fascinating. I was under the impression that such hybridization was impossible, especially those sparked into the world. Yet here you stand." she looked him over for another moment "Perhaps I will contact you at a later date. I have acquaintances who would be interested in how this came about."

"I assure you, there is no easy explanation." Spock said, trying to keep the wryness from his voice.

"I suppose there wouldn't be." With a bow, she began to turn away "If you'll excuse me, Spock, we must be going."

"And I as well. Live long and Prosper, T'Meni."

"Live long and prosper."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next one might not be out on the 22nd like I'd planned. This is complete, so no worries, it will happen, but my computer is dying and I may have to leave it behind for a trip I hadn't planned on taking (which is making it so I can't see Beyond on premier night, hence my downness.) I hope the length of this one made up for it!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just barely on time!

Bones didn't know he was coming.

Well, to be precise, no one knew if he was coming because he'd kept his armed escort waiting until quite literally the last possible minute, long after Bones and Chapel and Rand had left, and that no one included Jim because his reason for climbing onto the transport ship was not the intended purpose.

This was not something the escort would be happy knowing, nor was it an instance of 'what they don't know can't hurt them.'

But there was something he was missing, damnit. If Spock had known him at the dance, known from the very moment they locked eyes (and he was really very impressed with himself for being that dense. Good going, Jim, holding hands with the telepathic father of your child for twenty minutes and expecting him not to notice) then there was no reason at all the moment hadn't devolved into whatever the vulcan equivalent of the Maury show was.

So far as he could tell, the only possible reasons it hadn't were: Spock knew he was the master of the house and had been so incredibly patient with him that it was actually painful, a thought that had terrified him until literally everyone in the house informed him that no, there wasn't a chance he knew; or: there was something more to Spock's side of the story that Jim didn't know. And whatever the hell that was, Jim had a feeling he wasn't going to like it one bit and Spock would never ever voice it.

There was someone who might, however.

When they reached Earth, just a few hours before the trial was to start (hey, he did say last minute), his two armed escorts met him in the transporter room, spit-shined in their dress uniforms as if someone at headquarters had given a damn that he would still be an Admiral on the ride over. Jim felt bad for them.

"Well gentlemen, I'm afraid this just won't do." Jim said as he looked them over, crossing his arms.

"Sir?" The ensign on the right asked, already terrified.

"I'm a Rear Admiral for at least a few hours more, and here you two are barely put together!"

"I..." the one on the left, a Commander by the stripes on his sleeve, looked a bit green around the gills at the rebuke "Sir, we have followed all the Starfleet protocols-"

"Oh, have you?" Jim marched forward, all the bravado he'd seen from the Admirals over the years etched into his movements as he got right up in the Commander's space and jabbed a hand at the collar of his shirt "Then what do you call this?"

Too easy. The Commander looked down and Jim took the opportunity to box his ear hard enough to knock him into the ensign a foot away, taking the phaser from his hand as he went. The ensign threw out his hands to brace for impact and Jim used a well-aimed roundhouse to send the other phaser across the room and out of range.

"What are they teaching you at the academy these days." Jim asked, then raised the phaser on them when the ensign went for the panic button on the transporter console. "Ah-ah. I wouldn't do that."

Scowling, the ensign lowered his hand. Jim kept his eyes on them as he rounded the panel himself and started tapping in a new set of coordinates.

"Now, I really do feel bad about this." Jim said conversationally "It's just that I don't get out much anymore and there's someone I have to see. You'll understand if they ever put you on trial." Jim walked back around the podium towards the transporter pad with the new and incredibly helpful emergency activation switch in his hand "You know, I read somewhere that one in ten Starfleet officers gets court-marshaled at some point. Though I suppose I've been court-marshaled, oh, eight times, so I'm sure a special few are throwing the numbers off."

He stepped up onto the pad and looked at the two very unhappy officers.

"Don't worry boys, I'll be back in the citadel soon enough for them to write you up for making a false report."

Jim tipped his non-existent hat to the escorts and hit the initiate button.

 

Dubai was as hot as the eighth circle of hell even at close to six in the evening. Jim felt thoroughly pressure-cooked by the time he reached the street with the mastery on it, the soles of his shoes making suspiciously melty sticking sounds as he trudged up the marble steps to the open courtyard.

He took one look at it and got slammed with a bizarre kind of nostalgia, feeling the imprints left on his soul of getting dragged through that first time by Gary to gawk at the pretty trainees and all the times after it when he couldn't resist coming back to chocolate-brown eyes and whip-crack wit and something so deeply connecting it scared him, to the final, gut-wrenching time he'd stumbled up the steps, clutching torn stitches and ignoring the frantic buzzing of his comm just praying he wasn't too late only to find out he _was_.

He had to blink away the phantom images from his eyes, and when he did he spotted exactly who he wanted to see ushering in the last of what Jim suspected was another class. She was the same willowy sort of severe he remembered, her every sharp, tall corner draped in finery and silk, her aged face no more aged then it had been ten years ago like she'd always been at this place and would be forever.

"Lady Clark" he called "if might have a moment of your time-"

The woman turned, gave him a sharp once-over, and declared "No returns."

Jim blinked. "I..." he stopped, because didn't his improv teacher once say never deny? It wasn't like he knew what he was going to ask anyway. He just wanted a clue to his mystery, and a reaction that sharp looked damn promising.

"Do...you get a lot of returns?"

"No, because I do not take them."

Jim walked closer, trying to look unassuming enough to win either her favor or her ire - he could work with both “Of course, I simply meant...do you get a lot of requests."

She scoffed, and while he wasn't sure he'd succeeded in his quest, she was at least still talking.

"Plenty. Buyer's regret. Happens all the time. People now have no respect for art! Once they taste, puf! The interest, it is gone. Not my problem."

"Is that so." Jim said "Do they give you a reason?"

"Of course! Hundreds! They come crying to me: oh, I am saddled with this thing I do not want! It is too needy, it is too burdensome, you must take it back! They do not understand." her arms swept out to emphasize her words "It is a marriage, this contract. You must care for any masterpiece as a lover, weather a painting, a performance, or a slave. These people - hah!" she looked at him, clearly mocking "Most are not cut out for marriage."

"They come looking for this easy alternative they have dreamed up and find it not so easy after all. And I tell them what I tell you: I don't care what you do with it or how it ruins your life - no returns." She spun on her heel at the last to follow her students inside and Jim took a quick step after her.

"My lady - wait!"

"What?!" she snapped over her shoulder.

"Just one more question, if I may." he held out his hands, placating "Do you tell this to your students?"

Jim had never seen a more perfect example of someone looking down their nose, and he dealt with Starfleet Admirals as his _job_.

"Why do you think your beau would not sleep with you before purchase?"

The big oak doors shut behind her with echoing finality, leaving Jim with a certain foreboding sensation in his gut.

"But..." he said to no one, baffled, realizing the street sweepers do not need the details of his personal life just before he finished with 'he did.'

Jim felt like the final piece of a puzzle he hadn't known he was working on just fell onto the table. Now all he had to do was figure out where the hell it went.

There was a chime in the distance signaling the turn of the hour, and Jim did some quick mental math to figure out what time it was in San Francisco.

Well, since he was already planetside.

 

"Jim Kirk. We didn't think you were coming." Cartwright sneered at him as he strutted into the courtroom with all the bravado he thought he'd left on the bridge of the Enterprise. He sat down next to his crew and they stared, grins appearing on their faces as though all was right in the world. Jim's heart swelled a bit even if he knew the hope was false. He could give them this, but the reason he almost didn't come was that he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it wouldn't matter. Cartwright was the presiding judge, and so long as there was breath in that man's body Jim wouldn't be going free. All the Admirals who were on his side have no say, though they lined the room with his friends and comrades like silent monoliths, waiting to hear the verdict. Jim also knew that they were going to have to wait.

But he digressed.

"It was a near thing, counselor. Traffic from the colony was dreadful." he drawled.

Scotty clapped him on the shoulder and Bones muttered an affectionate insult he doesn't quite catch.

He looked down the line with a cock-sure grin on his face "But I couldn't very well abandon my men, could I?"

Cartwright hrumpfed and clacked his gavel "All rise. The accused may come forward."

Jim does as he was bid, and the trial begins.

"Admiral James Tiberius Kirk, you stand accused of treason, violation of the prime and temporal time directives, grand theft, vandalism, and several other lesser crimes associated with these acts. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"Yes." Jim said after an exaggerated moment of consideration "Since I'm here, I suppose I must. Isn't that right?"

There was a tiny murmur in the assembly, and Jim nodded "Death is nothing, but to live defeated and inglorious is to die every day."

"Pardon, Admiral?" Cartwright snapped.

"Napoleon Bonaparte, your honor. It seemed something good to say."

Cartwright looked a bit red in the face, already tired of Jim's antics. He squinted at him mockingly "You feel you are analogous to him? Persecuted and exiled?"

"What I feel does not matter, sir, what matters is that I am guilty of all I am accused of here today. I did, in fact, steal the Enterprise from her place in deconstruction, and I did travel through time causing unknown and irreparable alterations to the past. And I did, in fact, save millions of lives in the process."

The murmur was back, much louder now with an emotion Jim would like to think was at least somewhat to his favor.

"You presume to lord your deeds over us? I suppose you think you deserve a medal."

"I presume nothing, your honor, and I hope you don't find me pompous in saying so, but I'm afraid my awards drawer is already overcrowded."

The murmur turns into a rumble at this, and Sulu grinned wide while Scotty laughed outright.

"Order!" Cartwright shouted angrily "Admiral, your past deeds have no bearing on the outcome of this trial. You have yet to submit a reasonable defense."

"I haven't one." Jim shrugged "I can only say my piece and let the chips fall where they may.” The assembly did quiet now, avid “The fact is that rules are made in response to things that have already happened. In broad terms, some of them can be applied to new situations as well. However," he gestured to the crowd

"I'm sure everyone here who has ever so much as served on a starship knows how often we run into things no one has ever come close to experiencing. Things the rules are difficult, if Impossible, to impose upon. Things we have to write new ones for. That is the kind of situation that led us here today. And maybe I'm old-school, but I think those situations, that broadening of our horizons - I think it's a sign of progress. Of evolution. And that is a damn good thing. Your honor."

Jim walked back to his seat with the crew and sat.

"Oh, I'm done. The defense rests."

As expected, the room erupted into chaos before Cartwright could get a word in edgewise. Sulu asked him once how he did it and Jim had told him he'd like to know too - it was like the brass lived in soundless glass boxes most of the time, the way they lost their minds at a little outside thinking.

Eventually Cartwright almost broke his gavel on the podium to get it quiet enough to shout.

"A verdict will be given after the court reconvenes!"

Which was just ridiculous because the only new piece of information to consider was a speech he'd pulled straight out of his ass and an _outright confession_ , but his crew was cheering, happier than he'd seen them in months, and that was enough.

And hey, they didn't even confine him to quarters for the ride home. Not that he would have minded if they had - he had a Christmas to plan.

 

"What," Jane had asked the day after the masquerade ball "is Christmas?"

And the earth had shaken, the air had split, and the sun had eaten itself as the universe blinked out of existence.

Okay, maybe it had stopped a bit shy of all that, but you wouldn't have known it to talk to Jim. It wasn't even that Spock was teaching her something minimalist and just neglected to mention other holidays. No, Jane was unaware festivities took place in wintery months (or in their case, the balmy monotony of December under the weather regulators). And it wasn't that Jim was particularly religious - his roots were Jewish, but he'd been agnostic at best most of his life and somewhere in the course of the 22 century "Christmas" had morphed into a generalized tradition that fell on the 23rd of December, but since they were two days into Hanukkah when the subject came up Jim went straight for the opportunity for a blow-out.

This tragedy would not be allowed to stand. (Leonard had a feeling that if anyone asked Spock, the reason behind Jane's ignorance would be sufficiently heartbreaking to send Jim on such a tear that the universe really would collapse, so Leonard consciously avoided doing so.)

Apparently Jim had been entertaining ideas about the holidays for months anyway, which was terrifying because Leonard had seen what he could do with twenty minutes of thought enough times to be honestly terrified by anything over an hours' worth.

So that arboretum that he was finally satisfied with? Was put in just so they'd have snow on Christmas. Leonard was only mildly surprised at the amount of trouble he'd gone through for it, and even that bit evaporated completely when he mentioned snow in general - since the arboretum was a secret - to Spock and found out he'd never seen it.

Leonard got the green-light on Christmas Eve, and even he was impressed at what Jim had ordered up.

The four-story glass dome housed a towering pine tree decked from top to bottom in a rainbow of lights, the majority of it covered in ornaments already, and all getting steadily buried by a light snow the environmental controls in the room were cooking up. There was a little box with the rest of the ornaments there, and if Jim hadn't promised to tell Spock by New Years he'd have _dragged_ the bastard down to help them decorate the reachable parts of the tree. It was about the sweetest scene he'd been present for, both Jane and Spock bewildered by the little white flakes and human traditions, and it was the day _before_ Christmas. Janice and Christine joined them, the only remaining staff since Jim sent anyone who'd go home, and Jane was so wonder-struck already he thought she'd be happy even if that was all they got.

It wasn't even close, because Jim was a bleeding-hearted softy (but hell if Leonard wasn't starting to see why he got all the girls, and guys, and every other gender imaginable).

 

Christmas morning came as rather more an extension of Christmas Eve. The humans slept, but they had hit Spock on the second day of his three-day schedule and hyped Jane up so badly that she didn't get a second of her standard three hours. Ms. Rand cooked breakfast for them in the absence of the chef, something earthy that Spock couldn't identify, and they ate in the lounge attached to the arboretum while Chapel introduced Jane to the concept of giant socks full of candy by fireplaces.

Then Rand said "Were those boxes there last night?" with an air of innocence that was wholly fake, gesturing to the tree.  
Leonard stretched like a particularly satisfied cat as they made their way out to investigate. He leaned over when they're bringing the gifts in and told Spock:

"Only reason he didn't buy the whole town for you two is because I told him not to bury her."

Rand opened hers first in demonstration, something which would apparently assist with her gravity-defying hairstyles (quite literally, Spock suspected, given the way it glowed) and everyone else followed suit. Spock himself was surprised to have two of his own. He held off to watch Jane. The first few were simple enough - a stack of hard-cover adventure novels which all of them had to clarify were, in fact, hers. Leonard did the best Job by eventually stating "you can burn 'em or draw in 'em or be like the Admiral and hide them in a little box so you can look at them twice a year, whatever you want."

Then there was a fully-functional hovering model of a constitution-class ship, which fascinated her so much that she almost missed the last gift in the stack, a tiny thing compared to the rest. When she did open it, already at a loss from the day, she held up a pendant of unknown origins. Spock didn't recognize it - it was relatively small and roughly discus, and looked somewhat like an IDIC pendant, but it had the Starfleet insignia on it as well and a few dark patches that were suspiciously reminiscent of charring. Whatever it might have been, there was a chain wrapped through it just right so it would settle nicely as a necklace.

"What is it?" Jane asked, studying it.

"Alright, move aside." Leonard said, some grim determination in his eyes as he stood "This is me."

"Doctor." Chapel said with laughter in her voice "I'm sure he won't mind if we just go upstairs for a few minutes."

"Oh no, the Admiral drilled me on how to do this _for hours_ and by god, I'm going to do it." Leonard snapped, settling on the floor beside Jane.

"This." he said, so focused that even Spock sat back to watch his performance. "Is the most important piece of a starship. It regulates the antimatter reaction so that we can go to warp and see the stars, and it keeps us from blowing up while it does. This one in particular is from the Admiral's ship. He took it when they decommissioned it. This piece is built so strong that even though we replaced the entire engine around it, it was with us on every mission, through every crazy takeover and first contact, from minting to deconstruction, giving us strength and keeping us safe. He wanted you to have it so that it could do the same for you, wherever you go."

He took it from her stunned hands and clipped it around her neck. She picked it up again instantly, staring at it in wonder.

"Can we go see him?"

Leonard frowned just enough for everyone to know he would have liked nothing more than to have the man hog-tied and made to join them, but said "I'm sure we'll see him later."

Spock himself suddenly felt out of his depth. That was not the kind of gift given to a child who should, to the Admiral, be nothing more than property. He felt himself starting to slip, a curious sensation of the believing and hope that had been building in his mind for months gaining enough traction to affect his judgement. It was suspiciously like falling, and it was familiar even more so.

"Spock, aren't you going to open yours?"

Spock started from his thoughts and looked at the two neatly-wrapped gifts on the sofa beside him. Unlike the bright paper Jane's gifts had been wrapped in, these were papered with simple silver and bound by red ribbon. He reached for the smaller of the two, a bit desperate for a distraction.

That was not even close to what was inside the package. Spock sliced the tape cleanly, not tearing the paper at all, and removed the cover of the mostly flat, square, red box he found inside.

For half a second, Leonard was sure Jim had given himself away. Then Spock's eyebrows crashed downward, clearly baffled.

"What...is this?" he asked quietly.

"Beats me," Leonard replied, waving at Jane's necklace "I was only coached on that one."

With reverent care, Spock lifted a sheaf of papers out of the wrapping on his lap. After a long moment where no one said anything, Jane's curiosity got the best of her. She wandered over and peaked down at what had so captivated her father's attention.

"Music?"

"For the song I played. Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini."

"Oh?" Chapel asked, and Rand looked too pleased beside her to not have had a hand in locating whatever it was.

"Sheet music?" Leonard asked "Do you even need that? I figured a vulcan would just memorize the notes."

"I do not need it, doctor." Spock replied softly "Which is, I believe, what makes it a sublime gift."

"It's hard to read." Jane noted.

"Because it is in Rachmaninoff's handwriting."

"Oh." Chapel and Leonard said together, quietly.

After a moment and very carefully, Spock set the papers back in the box and closed the lid, wrapping the ribbon around it to ensure it stayed safely closed.

Leonard had the feeling that if he pushed right then he'd get an emotional reaction for the history books, but it was Christmas, so he didn't even try.

With a breath, Spock eyed his other gift like a bomb someone had told him was 'mostly' disarmed, but also packed with logic and the answers to the universe.

He picked it up the same way and broke the seal just as quickly as he had the first time.

"A harp?" Chapel asked lightly.

If Leonard squinted, he'd have called what Spock was doing with his face _smiling_.

"A lyre. It is a vulcan instrument, very difficult to master. I believe the sound is somewhat reminiscent of a guitar mixed with a harp."

"Can you play, Spock?" Rand asked.

"I can."

"A guitar." Leonard scoffed "Don't tell me you were a rebellious teen, Spock."

Rather than answer, Spock turned the instrument and began to play.

"Oh, that's lovely." Chapel said, smiling "It's too bad Nyota isn't here, she’d enjoy it."

Spock played the soundtrack of the morning, keeping them entertained while Jane moved back to her little pile of books, and everyone seemed content to sit in each other's company and listen for a long while, until, eventually, they were interrupted by the chiming of Leonard's watch.

"Is it that time already?" Chapel asked, glancing at him.

"Yup. Eight o'clock in San Fran."

"Oh!" Ms. Rand climbed to her feet, stretching "Then I guess we'd better get going!"

"You're leaving?" Jane asked, thoroughly disquieted by movement in her tranquil existence that morning.

"Just for a bit. I've got a daughter of my own to wish a merry Christmas." he turned to look at her "Why don't you head outside for a while? There's lots of fun to be had in snow that perfect."

Jane looked outside at this, ideas sparking in her eyes, and Spock set aside his lyre. Jane had set her coat, gloves and boots by the fireplace the night before and slung them back on excitedly. Spock picked up his own and slid them on. Jane had an advantage over him in the cold weather, he had deduced, since the chill hadn't stiffened her fingers nearly as much as it had his as they hung the ornaments.

Chapel and Rand bid temporary adieus before leaving, but just as Jane moved the sliding glass doors aside Leonard said "hold up."

Jane and Spock turned to him, Jane just in time to have a knitted hat shoved unceremoniously onto her head.

"Hey!" she protested.

"Those pointy ears of yours just beg for frostbite." he said by way of explanation.

Spock raised an eyebrow "You knit, doctor?"

"Maybe." he replied, fixing the hat on Jane's head.

Jane looked up and, muffled by the collar of her coat, said something that sounded like "Thanks, Bones!"

The words came with a niggling feeling at the edges of his brain, but before he had the chance to inspect it something had been shoved over his own head.

"You too. If those eyebrows of yours freeze solid we'll never know the extent of your disappointment in humanity again."

Spock hiked said eyebrows higher under the warm woolen hat, reaching up to surreptitiously repair the damage done to his hair. "On the contrary, doctor, I would simply have to take more care to express it verbally."

Leonard scoffed and left to make his call.

At some point in the night a frozen-over pond had been cleared off, and Jane spent the better part of the next few hours investigating the complete lack of friction on its surface quite thoroughly. Every so often he would look up from his most recent novel, settled as he was on a wooden bench, to see a puff of snow when she fell into the piles around the pond or a new, vaguely humanoid construction by the tree.

Rand returned first, walking in with a carrot and top hat which 'were necessary for any snowman,' followed eventually by Leonard who gave his stamp of approval to the creature.

"Chapel got a surprise visitor, so she'll be out the rest of the day." Leonard informed Spock, smiling, completely unaware of Rand watching them with a predatory gleam in her eyes and snow in her hand. Jane was at her side, watching intently, and Rand instructed her to observe her form. She had a look rather like a raptor teaching her young to hunt. Spock was privy to all this and simply moved out of the way when she let to snow sphere fly.  
Leonard was not so lucky.

"Ahg!" he shouted as the snow exploded over the back of his head, scattering into the collar of his jacket like little daggers of cold. He whipped around to see Rand grinning triumphantly and Jane clapping at her side.

"You menace! Attack an old man, will you!?" Spock arched one brow as he began gathering snow from the ground "Well, I'm about to show you how it's done!"

Spock had seen this behavior once in a documentary about humanity's illogical preoccupations, a so-called 'snowball fight.' It was as chaotic and inefficient as they said, and thus Jane's vulcan heritage allowed her to dominate the field quite spectacularly. Spock returned to his novel over the shouting voices and scuffling feet.

 

Jim laughed to himself as he watched from the third story deck as Jane, Rand and Bones pelted each other with snow. He really did wish he was down there with them (because someone needed to teach Jane how to throw a curve ball, and the seat next to Spock looked inviting) but - not yet. He was onto something, that piece of the puzzle mapped and waiting to click into place and clear up the image. Just a few more days. Smiling, he reached through the containment field to the lip of the overhang over the hallway and collected enough snow to form a decently large ball. He was a ways away, but Bones wasn't exactly _fast_. He took aim and threw just as they ran beside the bench.

And missed.

Spock jolted as the snowball hit the side of his head in a spectacular burst, and Jim heard the little sound effect 'fwump' rise up to add to it.

Very, very slowly, Spock reached up and wiped the snow away. Then he stood.

"Now, wait just a minute" Leonard reasoned "It was Janice."

"It was not, you traitor!"

Jim looked around and found that Jane had spun on her heel to stare up at him. He put a finger to his lips again, ducking slightly.

A shriek rose as Spock let loose on the two adults, sending them scattering. Jane ignored them in favor of not shushing this time.

"Admiral!" she shouted, hands cupped around her mouth "Thank you! I'll never take it off!"

Jim cursed and dropped behind the low wall between him and them quickly, but couldn't keep the smile off his face.

 

The humans, as expected, stood no chance against the greater might and tactical ability of an adult vulcan. But, since he was vulcan, Spock took no satisfaction in this. He believed they were about to quit when both ran straight for Jane and took shelter behind her.

"Jane, save us!" Leonard laughed, his hair clumped with snow from so long being pelted by it.

"He's a tyrant!" Rand bemoaned, swooning.

Spock came to a stop before them.

"Jane." he addressed.

"Father." she replied.

Rand hummed something off the soundtrack to a western in the stare-down that followed.

"As I have considerable strength and height advantages, your only logical choice is to stand down."

Jane folded her hands behind her back.

"You forget to account for my greater agility and ingenuity of youth."

"Did she just call him old?" Rand whispered, biting back a smile.

Spock narrowed his eyes.

"Very well."

And they were off, streaking across the arboretum ground with snow flying in flurries around them. Jane shouted with Joy, darting in zigzagging, pointless paths that made her difficult to hit, circling the tree and leaping onto the ice.

Spock followed without a thought, confident in his ability to balance on it.

He did not, however, know to account for the depth of the snowbanks around it. His foot came down where hers had and kept going, well past his knee, and only then hit more ice that was hidden beneath. There was no correcting by that point. Spock acknowledged that the puff of snow around his head as he hit the bank looked rather beautiful.

Jane appeared on the edge of his vision.

"You're heavier than me, father." Jane informed him with a wide grin.

Somewhere behind them, Leonard and Rand were laughing uproariously.

Spock lay in the snow and conceded defeat.

"Indeed." he said "however, suppose our weight was combined."

Jane frowned in the face of his riddle, suitably distracted so he could pull her down into the light snow with him.

She shrieked and flailed about, which only made the snow cling more, especially when Spock helped it along. Leonard came to stand over them, eyebrows raised in a mockery of Spock's look.

"Feeling a little spiteful there, Spock?" he asked.

Spock looked him dead in the eye "According to the Klingons, revenge _is_ a dish best served cold."

"Did you just make a pun."

Jane sneezed and Spock let her up finally.

"Oh my god. You turned her into a snowman."

Jane giggled and Spock pulled himself out of the snowbank with as much dignity as his heritage allowed.

"At least there're two of you." Leonard said, then "I'd say that's our cue to head inside. I'm betting Spock here is about to lose three fingers and at least five toes to the cold."

 

"Here's another tradition for you." Leonard announced after they had made their way inside and changed into warm, dry clothing. He came in carrying a tray of mugs overflowing with whipped cream and set it on the table "Hot chocolate after freezing your ears off in the snow."

Spock frowned slightly at the tray as Leonard made to hand Jane a mug.

"Doctor-"

"Relax, Spock, hers is white chocolate. Perfectly non-alcoholic to vulcan systems."

Content with the concession, Spock picked up his own mug. The heady taste of cocoa hit his tongue and he looked at Leonard accusingly.

"Did I not specifically say that _hers_ was white chocolate?" he asked Rand "At least I left out the Baileys from that one."

The sun was beginning to set, casting the snow outside in streaks of orange and a shimmering grey-lavender color. With a sigh, Spock took another sip. It was delightfully warm after being in the cold for so long (Leonard had insisted on regening the light frostbite on his hands, but the chill had clung a bit to him just the same).

He was feeling languid from the day, relaxed, and Rand and Leonard appeared to feel the same, given the way they sprawled on the couch across from him and Jane, chatting about whatever came to mind. Spock joined in eventually, Jane back to her books and wilting slightly as the night wore on.

Just after the sun set he noticed a whisper of a presence his dulled perceptions had been glossing over: the Admiral was in the hallway, listening. Covertly, he stood from the couch and walked to lean against the wall by the door, looking down at the new drink Leonard had whipped up for him to try as he spoke.

"I do not know your motives, Admiral." Spock said quietly, noting the sharp intake of breath from the hall "but I believe thanks are in order. I will leave you to reveal yourself in your own time."

The silence was not unexpected, but he would have been lying if he said he wasn't disappointed.

"Spock!" Leonard slurred "is J-"

Rand slapped a hand over the doctor's mouth.

"The Admiral" She said, giggling.

"The _Admiral_ " Leonard corrected mockingly "out there?"

"I am merely expressing my astonishment that this 'eggnog' is considered a suitable beverage." Spock relied, pushing off the wall.

"To yerself?" Leonard's drawl had taken on a twang as the night had progressed, though he hardly seemed to have noticed it himself "That hot chocolate really did go to your head, huh?"

"No."  
Leonard watched him lazily as he walked back to the couch.

"'No'? That's it?"

"No, sir." Spock added, more sarcastically than he had intended.

An instant later one of the couch cushions hit flat against his face with a faint thwumping sound. It flopped down over his hands just as suddenly, leaving Spock to blink surprise dust motes from his eyes and stare at it accusingly.

"I have noticed you have a proclivity for throwing things today, doctor. Is that a part of the traditional festivities or are you simply beginning to accept your neanderthalic nature?"

"No." Leonard replied smartly, taking a drink of his eggnog.

"I did not ask a yes or no question."

"Don't care, chatty Kathy. _I_ can admit it when I'm too drunk for your shit."

"Leonard!" Rand scolded.

"What? I said drunk!"

Jane giggled by his side, then looked at him "Are you drunk, father?"

Spock, having abandoned his eggnog in favor of better things, sipped his second mug of hot chocolate.

"It is not outside the realm of possibility."

Leonard and Rand laughed.

 

Someone was shutting the lights off around them. Spock was embarrassed to realize that the so-called 'hot chocolate' had indeed gotten him rather drunk, which was why it took several seconds for him to realize that he was looking at Leonard and Rand asleep on the sofa across from him and Jane was nestled against his side, so, as Chapel had opted to stay with her friend, there was only one person who could be doing this. He was sorely tempted to look, but he had just made the declaration that he would wait. Reluctantly, he closed his eyes again.

"Hey there Captain idiot." Leonard slurred so much it came out less like words and more like garbled Klingon.

"Shhh." someone instructed over the rustle of fabric.

"Shoulda' been here, you know." Leonard continued, trailing off on the end like he'd fallen back to sleep.

The footsteps started up again, but came to a stop once more beside the sofa Spock and Jane were occupying. He hovered for a moment, silent and motionless, as if caught in indecision.

Then, after a breath, a blanket settled over him and the light by his head was flicked off, casting them in darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

Jim sat at his desk, twiddling a knight in his fingers as he stared at the board set up before him. His unfinished game with Spock, which he had been quite impressed he remembered well enough to recreate, was his battlefield of thought for the day. It, like his present situation, held something he had missed in the placement of the pieces. He knew it because he could feel it humming in his blood, a sensation he had honed through years of peril and command that he was inclined to listen to.

 _Except_ he'd been staring at it for two hours already and found diddly squat. The sun had gone from a considering light on the horizon to a fully-fledged fireball, but the route to victory was still so clear-cut it would have been obvious to a beginner and there wasn't a single trick waiting no matter how hard he tried to find one. After going in a few circles, he began to suspect that that fact was the something that he'd missed.

Jim slowly set his last move back. Nothing. He pushed Spock's bishop back into place.

Jim stared at the board. _Now_ something was wrong. Mentally, he played white's next moves with victory in mind. Rook on knight's two, king to-

Jim shot to his feet.

He'd been in check.

Spock _threw the game_.

Now he remembered the funk he was in, how unsure of himself he felt going into that awful mission. The careful consideration in Spock's eyes as he blocked his own victory for Jim's benefit.

 _'Buyer's regret, happens all the time,'_  echoed in his memory _'why do you think your beau wouldn't sleep with you before purchase?'_

With new and terrible clarity washing over him, Jim depressed the comm button on his desk.

"Janice."

"Yeoman Rand."

"Have Spock brought to my office, please."

There was a silence, then "Aye, sir."

 

The door swished open behind him, and Jim, for once, felt no need to hide away in shame. He rolled the black king between the fingers of his right hand contemplatively.

Spock could only see the Admiral's back in the dim room, perched as he was on his desk. There was a chess game set beside him, already very much underway.

"You called for me, Admiral?" Spock intoned, a thousand unspoken questions in his voice.

Jim's lips thinned. He reached back and set his king on the board.

"I did." he turned around.

Spock sucked in an audible breath. His shock was palpable, in his eyes and the lines of his body, all so familiar, all so dear to Jim.

" _You_?" he all but whispered.

"How does white move?" Jim asked.

Spock's eyes darted to the board. "What...Jim."

"How. Does. White. Move."

Spock hesitated, then, feeling bit like he was dreaming, he came forward to look at the board, fighting to focus on the strategy.

"There is no way to win." he said at length.

"Not anymore, no. Play."

Spock recognized the configuration then: their unfinished game from all those years ago. He took the move he had planned at the time.

"Check."

"Checkmate in two." Spock confirmed faintly.

"It looks like white loses." Jim said with quiet intensity. "It would take some divine move to save it now."

Spock looked into Jim's eyes and nodded "There are none left to me."

"No," Jim agreed "but I have one."

Jim tipped his king.

The silence in the room was thick with things unsaid. Spock waited. He didn't deny or confirm what Jim now knew. He didn't have to.

Jim slammed his fist down on the table, rocking the pieces on the board. "Damnit, Spock, how could you think I wouldn't come!?"

Spock pulled back slightly, his expression guarded. "You did not."

"I was in a coma!" Jim shouted.

Spock flinched, though not in fear, and swept his gaze over Jim as if checking for residual damage.

"I-"

Jim cut him off.

"Half of the crew was in the morgue! I couldn't even eat by myself when I woke up. As soon as I was able to walk I dragged myself to the academy but you were already _gone_." his voice cracked on the word, and he spoke the rest quietly "Spock, I loved you." Jim deflated, an old, raw wound showing in his eyes.

"My...decision was logical." Spock said, the words quiet and hollow.

"Logical, Spock? Because you were saving me from a mistake you thought I was making?" Jim shook his head "I've spent months afraid of what you'd say - that you'd tell me you hated me, that I should never have come back into your life. Somehow this is worse." he continued, bone-deep sorrow in his voice as he did. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to leave you. I never stopped searching."

Spock's eyes zeroed in on him, shocked "You looked for me?"

Jim rounded the desk to stand closer to Spock, who followed him with an intense gaze and swayed into his space when he came close as though Jim was his magnetic north. Jim bravely set a hand on Spock's elbow, hoping his heart would reinforce his words.

"Of course I did. Everything that bitter old woman told you about me, about us - she was _wrong_ , Spock." Jim wasn't sure if it was him shaking or Spock "I searched. I searched for so long but I never found so much as a trace of you. I would have missed you again if I hadn't seen Jane." he smiled slightly "Other than the hair, she's so much like you."

"On the contrary, her behavior is governed primarily by your reckless nature." Spock said, a bit too light for the moment.  
Jim laughed, though, a higher note with the stress. Then his expression turned compassionately serious again.

"I registered her as my heir when you got here. She’s free.” he said quietly, and Spock’s breath caught “I know this isn't what we planned, but at least I can give the two of you good lives. Even if something happens to me, I'll see that you're never on the block again-"

Jim was cut off by the press of Spock's lips against his own. In a lightning quick-move, Spock had cradled Jim's face in his hands and swooped down, kissing him softly as though none of the past ten years had happened. Jim's hands tightened on him, and for one, blissful second, he let himself press back. Then, with more strength than he knew he had, he pulled away.

Spock blinked down at him, slowly looking mortified.

"I- I apologize. I should have - I know nothing of your life now, if there's someone...or you no longer wish-"

"Stop." Jim implored, a thousand thoughts scrambling for enough coherency to fill the air between them.

"There's no one. It's always been you." Jim circled Spock's wrist with his hand "But you don't have to do this - I don't mean to buy your affections. I just want you to be..." Jim's not sure how to phrase it. Safe, content, cared for.

Spock took a slow, shaky breath, his fathomless gaze trapping Jim in its depths. "I know."

"Are you sure?"

Spock looked very much like he wanted to quiet Jim with his lips again, but refrained.

"It has always been you." Spock repeated.

Jim let out a breath it felt like he'd been holding for months, years, even, and spent a timeless minute staring into eyes he thought would never look back at him with anything but contempt again. He hoped Spock was picking up the sweeping affection in his heart, the relief and love broadcasting loud enough to be heard through the contact along his jaw.

Blinking the slight blur from his vision, he gestured to the sofa against the wall.

"Sit, Spock. There's a lot left to be said."

 

After the sun had wheeled entirely overhead and given way to stars, when Jim and Spock had stumbled back into their easy affection so quickly that it hurt something deep in Jim's chest to have waited a moment longer than needed, the comm on his desk went off.

Both of them started and Jim wondered when they had gotten so close to one another. Reluctantly, he pulled away and stretched to reach the button.

"Kirk here."

"Got a little girl out here who wants to say goodnight to her two favorite people." Bones drawled, satisfaction at the turn of events clear in his voice.

Jim looked to Spock as he replied "Well, we shouldn't keep her waiting. Bring her up."

He stood from the couch, stretching the kinks from his body.

"Did you inform him of your intentions to speak with me?" Spock asked. He was more content than Jim had ever seen him, and that easy forgiveness hit his soul with a sting and a wash of soothing, like water on bone-dry earth. Absently, he trailed his fingers over the back of Spock's hand as he moved away.

"The entire house probably heard about this before you even reached the door."

"They know?" Spock asked, and Jim knew he didn't mean about the late call.

"They know that I've kept us in separate orbits." Jim poured them each a cup of tea. "Bones and Janice do. I assume Christine and possibly M’Benga are aware of some of the more...pertinent details, surrounding Jane's origins."

He handed the cup to Spock just as the door opened. Bones gave the scene a once-over and sent them the growly look that said he was downright touched. Jane did the same scan before dropping her gaze to the floor.

"It's about damn time." Bones grumbled, rubbed his eyes suspiciously, and said a quick goodbye to a quiet Jane before disappearing.

Jim walked closer to her, curious over her sudden fascination with her feet.

"What's wrong?" Jim asked, leaning over to be closer to Jane's level.

Jane avoided his eyes, a frown fixed on her lips.

"Jane?"

"Are you going to hurt daddy?"

Jim blinked a few times in quick succession "No, of course not. Never."

She looked up at him through her lashes, not an ounce of belief in her eyes.

"Master did."

"Jim, if I may?" Spock cut in, standing, and Jim made a disbelieving sound at the question before getting out of the way.

Spock crouched in front of Jane, his expression gentle.

"Jane, do you remember when you asked me why you didn't have any siblings like the others?"

Jane nodded, her gaze skittering over to Jim as she did so. Jim himself felt he might understand what she was feeling a bit, now that he realized what Spock was about to do.

"It's fine if he hears. What did I say?"

Jane frowned, but spoke despite her reservations "Because master wasn't the other person who helped make me. The other person was somebody you-" she stopped, clamming up like she couldn't bear to tell Spock's secret.

"Someone I cared for greatly. Someone who was kind, and good, and nothing like our master, and because of that you were born. You remember?"

Jane nodded. Jim tried to keep from shaking.

"Jane." Spock tilted her head up so he could look her in the eye "Jim was that other person."

Jane jerked where she sat, eyes wide and snapping to Jim before darting back to Spock.

"But he was hiding from you."

Spock raised one eyebrow. "He believed I was angry with him."

"Why?"

"Because he is foolish."

" _Spock_." Jim chided shakily.

Spock turned the raised eyebrow on him in reply. Jim edged closer again, and Jane looked up at him.

"Really?"

 _Hell_ , Jim thought, _she's asking me_. He nodded, more nervous than he had been since the morning. Jane didn't react at first. Then she hung her head, and Spock rested a hand on her arm as her shoulders began to shake.

"Spock?" Jim asked, fear clawing at his throat. He'd take it all back if it would help.

"She is happy." Spock said, his voice even as Jane scrubbed at her eyes.

Hesitantly, Jim reached out to rub her back and gave Spock a look that telegraphed his disbelief.

"She has not had much joy in her life." Spock provided "it is difficult for her to process."

Spock hasn't led him astray before, so Jim takes a leap of faith and reaches out to gather Jane up into a hug. She latches onto his shirt, trembling breaking into sobs, and Spock stokes her back soothingly.

They locked eyes over her head, Spock's eyes soft, and Jim realized he could only be thankful for his exile now, because without it, he would never have found his family.

 

\---Three weeks later---

 

Jim watched the clouds pass overhead through the grid, the leaves on the tree at the edges of his vision rustling in the light breeze, and listened to the quiet _shiff_ of pages turning beside him and the distant crashing of Jane mucking about in the wilder parts of the garden.

He turned his head on the grass to look at Spock. Spock's eyes shone with concentration as he read, darting back and forth with inhuman speed that Jim knew was his 'leisure' pace, the sunlight gleaming off his hair almost blindingly. After a moment of this he realized that the speed of his reading did not match the occasional page-turning, which meant he wasn't paying attention. Smiling, Jim brushed their fingers together.

Spock looked at him, raising one eyebrow in question, and Jim smiled wider.

"Physics not holding your attention like usual?" Jim asked.

"On the contrary. Mister Scott's theories are fascinating. I would like the chance to debate him again one day - I can see that I may have been mistaken about Thy'lek's work."

"He'll be delighted, I'm sure. Not a lot of people can go toe to toe with him on physics."

After a moment of consideration, Spock closed his book and turned to face him better.

"Jim," he said softly "there is something-"

Spock and their tranquil afternoon were both violently interrupted when a starship blasted by overhead, scraping the barrier with a noise like none Jim had ever heard as it passed.

"What the hell?!" Jim shouted, on his feet in an instant. A second later the barrier rippled and collapsed in a way that looked suspiciously like the cause came from inside the citadel, letting in the wind that should very well have been buffeting a house on the top of a cliff all along.

Before he had more than a moment to strategize, three forms sparkled into life not ten feet from them.

"Jim!" Bones shouted, running out of the house with Rand and a phaser.

"Hold your fire!" Chapel shouted over the racket.

The forms coalesced into Commander Sulu, Captain Scott, and Commander Chekov.

"Good to see you, Admiral!" Scotty called with a mischievous shine in his eyes that, in Jim's experience, had always spelled trouble.

"Scotty!" Jim replied "Mind telling me what the hell is going on?"

"Aye sir. The formal verdict on your trial came in last night - there's a ship right behind us that's coming to arrest you."

Jim felt a wave of dread crash over him. It hadn't mattered so much, before he'd found Jane and Spock again, that this was the outcome he couldn't avoid. But now? Now there was a fire in his chest begging to burn a path to freedom, whatever the cost.

"You need to leave," he made himself say, thinking as quickly as he ever had "if they find you here they might think the worst and arrest you too."

Scotty's grin turned wicked. "A bit late for that."

"What? Why?"

"We might'a stolen the Enterprise again."

"You _what_?! Return it! My god, if you hurry they might give you a slap on the wrists-" Jim shouted at the same time Scotty yelled:

"She was already in the decommission lot! We're doing them a favor, saving them all that manpower-"

"Which charges was he found guilty of?" Rand demanded over them.

"All of them." Sulu replied grimly.

"I don't see why that's-"

"Jim," Rand interrupted "the docking bay. They'll seize your assets to pay for damages."

It felt like ice water had been dropped over his head. He looked at Spock, whose expression had frozen over into grim resignation.

"Bones, if you get the car right now you could get to the spaceport in time to outrun them."

"Or." Scotty said with more manic joy than Jim thought was necessary "Ya' could git your things and see if these new bloated monstrosities can stand up against the old girl."

Jim opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to iterate all the reasons that was a terrible idea all at once.

"Scotty, even we can't run the Enterprise with a crew compliment this small."

"Others already on board." Chekov said, wincing as he heard himself.

"The UT's a bit wonky." Scotty said by way of explanation "They got her in a few pieces before we rescued her. But you get the gist."

Jim blinked between them.

"Who?"

"Uhura, Giotto, a few others. We're waitin' on you."

"But your careers." Jim tried, looking at Sulu "You want to be a Captain."

"Not in this Starfleet." Sulu said, determination and anger in his eyes.

"I..." Jim watched Jane pop out of the bushes finally, eyes big, and looked at Spock.

"Space is no place for a child." Jim said, half dismayed and half considering.

Spock tilted his head slightly "She would disagree with you."

"Jim." Leonard said grimly "It's the best life she'll get out of the options."

He watched her wander out of the bushes, questioning gaze sweeping over them all, and knew they were right. Leonard would run with them if Jim asked, but he was, as he would say, a doctor and not a smuggler. If they were caught (more of a when) Spock would be sold back to the highest bidder and Jane would be on her own with nothing but a disgraced family line to show for it.

He rubbed a hand over his face, disbelieving.

"We are bringing the rebenok and lampochka?" Chekov asked incredulously, tipping his thumb at Spock and Jane.

Jim shrugged and smiled at Spock. "I guess so."

Sulu frowned along with Chekov, but Spock allayed their fears quickly.

"I am proficient in twelve subjects, including warp theory, to a doctoral level. I assure you I am quite capable of serving on a starship."

Jim smiled fondly at him. Then he raised an eyebrow at Bones, who'd blocked his line of sight with the tricorder he’d been waiving over Spock in an agitated manner since Chekov spoke.

Spock waved him off finally. "There is no need of that, Doctor, as I am quite aware of my condition."

Bones gave Spock the look that he gave people when all the shouting he wanted to do couldn't happen fast enough for him to pick a starting point. Jim took a few steps closer, slightly concerned.

"Spock?"

"Chekov just called him a light bulb." Bones said by way of explanation.

"What?" Jim looked Spock over "Why?"

"He's got the best eyes on the ship, that's why-"

"Doctor, if I may. I was in the process of informing him when our guests arrived."

"Informing me of what?" Jim asked he walked so he was standing in Spock's bubble of personal space. That close, if he squinted, he caught a tiny glow about Spock's ears, one he'd mistaken for the shine of the sun earlier.

"Jim." Spock stared, then stalled.

"You have thirty seconds or I do it for you. I've had enough of you two not talking to last a lifetime." Bones snapped.

Spock shot him a look that was surprisingly close to a glare before turning his eyes back to Jim. He sighed quietly, then an approximation of his usual stoicism fell over his features.

"It...was my belief that Jane was something of a...unique incident. It appears I was wrong."

Jim frowned. Spock was very confusing when he wanted to be, and he was having a bit of a rough day all of a sudden. He felt like this should be easy, but it wasn't computing.

"Had I know this, I would have taken precautions, however that is moot now. The child is not corporeal, at the moment-"

Jim snapped to attention "Spock, what are you saying?"

The very tips of Spock's shimmering ears turned green "If we so chose, Jane will have the sibling she desired in roughly four months."

Jim's jaw dropped. He put his other hand on Spock's other shoulder, not sure if he was supporting himself or Spock, and said quietly "You're-?"

"The human words do not adequately explain what I currently am, however I suppose 'preparing to yield' would suffice."

"That's what plants do." Jim muttered a bit hysterically. "You're not going to seed."

Spock shrugged. "Debatable."

Jim fought back a rising smile "But how?"

"Now that I am aware of it, I have come to understand. My katra is working with singular focus to ensure the child’s survival, despite the difficulty. That is why I was nearly invalidated last time. It is taking a great amount of my control to maintain the required processes." Spock blinked, his eyes refocusing "Jim, all I would have to do is stop them if this is not what you want. At the moment, my katra is simply expanding. There will be no separate soul until it gains its corporeal form."

"No." Jim gripped Spock's shoulders tightly for half a second, then loosened his hands "Unless it's not what you want. I...I would be delighted. If Jane had a sibling."

Spock leaned closer, and Jim knew his answer without needing to hear it.

"Do you think we can do it, Spock?" he asked "Run away to the stars and live happily ever after?"

"If the bad times in our pasts could happen, then it stands to reason that good times of equal value are possible."

"It stands to reason." Jim echoed, smiling, and the corners of Spock's mouth curved up in response.

Jim turned slightly to address his crew.

"What are we waiting for? Let's get out of here."


End file.
